Changes
by procyonblack
Summary: Why is Harry's appearance changing, and why does his hair turn greasy so quickly? The Gryffindors are puzzled, but will Snape face up to facts? And will Harry? Severitus, emotioncentred, subtle parody. FINISHED
1. Back on the Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns all the characters in this story (there are no OCs). I'm only writing this in pure frustration for having to wait so long for book six...

**Chapter one **

**On the Hogwarts Express Again**

It was the last day of the summer holidays and Harry Potter was on his way to platform 9 3/4. Not surprisingly, this had been his worst summer so far since he'd started going to Hogwarts. It had been OK at first - he had spent a month with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had taught him some useful spells and jinxes. That had been all right, he hadn't had any time for brooding then, and it had been nice not to be with the Dursleys for a change.

The Dursleys hadn't been so bad this year anyway, but after he'd come back to them from Kingsley's place, Harry hadn't been able to avoid thinking about Sirius and the horrible fate he had met in the Department of Mysteries. He had dreamt, over and over again, that he was back there, in the room with the mysterious veil, and that he looked behind it. Sometimes he had found Sirius there, alive and well, but sometimes he'd found Voldemort there instead, his terrible, high-pitched laughter ringing in Harry's ears even after he woke up.

Whether he had a nightmare or a good dream, it was always the same dreadful feeling when he woke up, realising, for the umpteenth time, that Sirius was dead. As he was pushing his trolley, he hoped that returning to Hogwarts would make him feel better, that it would take his mind off things a little bit at least.

The passage through the barrier that led to the platform was routine by now and Harry didn't think twice about it. Over on the other side, he felt at home. This was his world, and he was glad to be back once again. He had been too depressed to write any letters to his friends during the summer, but he was glad to see them now. He was rather late, Harry noticed, hurrying past the scarlet steam engine; almost everyone had boarded the train already. Luckily, he found Luna and Neville in one of the first compartments he looked into and quickly crammed all his stuff in there and entered just as the train began to move.

'Sure you didn't leave anything on the platform, Harry? Neville asked.

'Nope,' Harry said with a quick glance out of the window. He sat down with a sigh. 'Good to see you again!'

'I expect Ron, Ginny and Hermione will be along soon, once they've finished whatever they're doing in the prefects' compartment,' Neville went on.

'What, Ginny's a prefect?' Harry said. He realised that he hadn't even had the energy to read Ron's letters properly during the summer.

'Didn't you know?' Luna asked, looking at Harry for the first time since he'd come aboard.

'Well, Ron must have written it in one of his letters,' Harry mumbled, feeling ashamed, 'But I suppose I just didn't take it in.'

Luna smiled but said nothing. She went on reading the Quibbler, still smiling.

'You look kind of different, by the way, Harry,' Neville said after a while. 'Have you done something to your hair...?'

Harry looked at Neville, feeling puzzled, then ran his hand through his hair. It did feel strange, he noticed. Since he didn't have a mirror at the Dursleys', and wasn't allowed to use the same bathroom as the rest of the family, he hadn't seen what he looked like all summer. Now he noticed that his hair wasn't as messy as it used to be. Instead, it felt kind of - greasy.

'Well, no,' Harry replied, 'I haven't done anything... But now that you mention it, it feels a bit strange.'

'Yes, you do look different,' Luna said in a dreamy voice. 'More mature, more grown up. You remind me of someone, I just can't think who...'

At that moment the witch who sold snacks and sweets came along with her trolley, and Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, bought a large stack of cauldron cakes and some pumpkin pasties. Neville got some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and passed them around.

After a while Ron, Hermione and Ginny came along. Harry noticed that Ron eyed him kind of strangely as he said hello, but then they started talking and he didn't think about it any more.

'Guess who's back as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!' Ron exclaimed as soon as he'd sat down.

'No! You're not serious!' Harry laughed. 'Not Lupin?'

'Yes, he's the very man!'

'Now we'll have some real Defence against the dark arts,' Hermione said, smiling.

'About time, too,' Ron said. 'We haven't had anyone decent for ages... although Moody was kind of... interesting.'

'So, what's up with you Harry?' Hermione asked, looking intently at him. 'You look...'

'Oh, don't tell me I look different,' Harry sighed.

'Well, I was going to say that your hair... Well, it looks kind of - don't get all upset now - it just looks a little greasy.'

'But I washed it yesterday! Late at night!' Harry said. Then, running his hand through his hair again, he added, 'But you're right, it does feel greasy.'

'My hair goes greasy really soon after I've washed it too,' Hermione said soothingly. 'At least you don't have acne like poor Eloise Midgen!' She gave Ron a dirty look.

'But it isn't just the hair,' Ron said slowly, 'You... you look different.'

'Oh no!' Harry sighed, looking at Hermione for reassurance. She looked worried too, though. 'Hermione? Tell me it's just my greasy hair, please!'

'I think it is, yes,' Hermione said, far too quickly. She didn't look at him.

Harry decided that he'd have to look in a mirror as soon as ha got the chance when they came to Hogwarts, and then started asking the others about the new books they'd had to get for the sixth year to change the subject.


	2. The Mirror

Disclaimers in the first chapter.

**Author's note**: Thanks a lot for the reviews!

**Chapter 2**

**The Mirror**

The Start-of-term feast was out of the ordinary this year. Everyone was eyeing the Slytherins in a suspicious sort of way, although the Sorting Hat, once again, had made it clear that it thought that co-operation and unity was of the utmost importance in these days of hostility and animosity. There was a tension during the feast that had never been there before, because now most of the students and their families had realised that Voldemort was really back.

The delicious food made them forget about the Slytherins, however, and over some excellent treacle pudding Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville were discussing what classes they were going to take this year.

'I can't believe I got an 'O' in my Potions OWL,' Harry said, taking another spoonful of pudding.

'Well, that's not half as strange as the fact that I got one,' Neville said, shaking his head incredulously.

'I'm not surprised,' Hermione said, 'you're both rather good at Potions so long as Professor Snape isn't around.'

'_Rather _good, maybe, but to get an 'O'? It's just too unlikely. Maybe Dumbledore sort of... helped us?' Harry looked inquiringly at Ron. But Ron wasn't looking at him; he was staring at his plate, chewing his pudding mechanically.

'I didn't get an 'O',' he said quietly.

'Oh, er... – sorry, mate. But at least you're rid of Snape now, look on the bright side.'

'Yes, but I can't become an Auror without Potions.'

'Ah, I'm sure you can do it anyway, somehow,' Harry said, trying, unconvincingly, to sound cheerful. 'Your Dad's at the Ministry, after all. He's bound to be able to arrange something. And the rest of us are stuck with Potions now, it won't be fun, you know...'

'I'm off now,' Ron said grumpily and left the table. The others looked after him thoughtfully.

'It really will be dreadful, you know,' Harry said. Neville shuddered.

'You don't _have_ to take Potions,' Hermione sighed. 'You could choose something else, Divination perhaps...'

You know perfectly well that we have to take Potions if we want to be Aurors,' Harry snapped.

'So? Don't complain about it then! Thank your lucky star you got an 'O', otherwise you'd have had to drop it!'

'I know, I just can't stand the thought of having that greasy old git for another two years.' Hermione and Neville looked at him thoughtfully, trying to avoid looking at his hair.

'I'm glad I can still do potions, though,' Neville said quietly. 'I want to be an Auror if I can, Snape or no Snape.'

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both of them thinking about Neville's parents who had been Aurors before they were tortured into oblivion.

'He has taught us a lot, though,' Hermione said, 'Otherwise we wouldn't have got our 'O:s'.'

'If you can call that teaching...' Harry mumbled, glancing, for the first time since he had eaten, towards the high table. And there he was, Severus Snape, looking as mean as ever. Harry looked at him, talking to Professor McGonagall. He felt a surge of hatred at the sight of him; after all, it had been his fault that Sirius had died, there was no getting away from that... If it hadn't been for him, Sirius might still have been alive. Then he looked up, meeting Harry's eye. Harry stared back at him, insolently. Snape's eyes narrowed menacingly before he turned to Professor McGonagall again.

Harry looked over to where Remus Lupin sat, trying to catch his eye once again. He had been trying to do this all evening, but not once had he succeeded. Lupin couldn't be angry with him, could he? Harry kept him in view while he was finishing his meal, but Lupin, who wasn't talking to anyone, never looked his way.

Harry was looking forward to the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He thought about it as he went up the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitory that night, wondering what it would be like to have Remus Lupin as a teacher again. Of course, he had met Lupin a few times while he was staying with Kingsley Shacklebolt during the summer, but he hadn't told Harry that he'd be coming back to Hogwarts this year. Quite on the contrary it had seemed like he was really busy doing things for the Order and certainly wouldn't have time for anything else. But maybe Dumbledore thought that it was especially important to have a person he could trust as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher now, when everything was so turbulent...

Harry went over to his bed and found that all his things had been unpacked and arranged neatly in his cupboard, as usual. He threw himself down on the bed, but got up again almost immediately. He had to look in a mirror.

He stood there, scrutinising his own appearance, for what seemed like ages. He was shocked to see his hair lying flat on his head. Flat – and greasy. His face didn't look the way it used to either, though he couldn't tell exactly what was different. It was something about the shape of his face, and the hue. Although Harry had always been rather skinny, his face had looked quite round, like his Father's. Now it looked longer and thinner than before, and, unlike last year, it wasn't tanned at all, but very pale and, to tell the truth, sickly-looking. Could he be coming down with something – a cold, or even pneumonia? But he didn't feel ill. What had happened to him? Was he, perhaps, beginning to look more like his Mother? Yes, that had to be it. Harry sighed with relief, slightly surprised by his own reaction. Why had it made him so upset that he looked a little different? Ridiculous, really. He went back into the dormitory to go to bed.

Later, as he was falling asleep, he thought about his image in the mirror again. It had seemed vaguely familiar, reminding him of something... But of what? Of whom? Still puzzled, he dozed off. He slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning. At dawn, he had a nightmare, but not about Voldemort this time. He hadn't dreamt about him for a long time, whether that was worrying or not he didn't know. This time, however, he dreamed about something different. He dreamed that he went to the mirror again, and looked into it. But in the mirror, he didn't see himself. He saw Severus Snape.


	3. The Secret

**Chapter 3**

**The Secret**

Professor Remus Lupin was sitting in his office, trying to think. What he had seen this evening really worried him, and he hadn't been prepared for it at all. The change in Harry's appearance, while not so obvious to some people, was to him deeply unsettling. Yet there was no doubt whatsoever what had caused this, he was entirely sure how it had all happened. There was only one thing he could do about it, one thing he _had_ to do...

He rose and walked over to the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the fire and said: 'Severus, have you got a minute!'

'Lupin,' Snape said coldly as he emerged from the fireplace, brushing some ashes off his black robes. He gave Lupin a look of deepest disdain.

'I suppose you've noticed, Severus,' Lupin said, no less coldly. He rarely became upset, but the realisation of what had happened had made him angry as never before.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Harry Potter – surely you've seen him?'

'Oh, I've seen him.' Snape sneered. 'As arrogant as ever. What about him?'

'Don't give me that feigned innocence – you must have noticed that he looks different, Severus. Less like James, and more like...' He didn't finish the sentence.

'Go on, more like what? More arrogant, perhaps?'

'More like _you_.' The two men stared at each other. 'You know how it happened, don't you?' Lupin went on. 'You are the Potions Master, after all. I'd never have thought that you did anything like that back then in Godric's Hollow...'

'I have no idea what you're on about, Lupin,' Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

'Oh, you know very well what I mean, Severus,' Lupin said softly, 'I'm sure we both remember that night when we met in Godric's Hollow, seventeen years ago. I thought at the time that Lily hadn't seen you, but now I know better...'

'Look Lupin, you had better explain what all this has to do with Harry Potter. Come to the point, will you, I have more important things to do...'

'Now listen, Severus... Do I have to spell it out for you? You know, surely, that sixteen years is the time it takes for Polyjuice Potion to wear off in children whose parents have taken it at the time of conception. That,' Lupin paused, then went on more quietly, 'is the only plausible explanation for Harry's... transformation.'

'What are you trying to say, Lupin?' Snape stared at Lupin incredulously. '...That that arrogant twit... that... _boy_... is my son?'

'That's what I'm trying to say, yes. And to think that all these years, I never told a soul about when I saw you there, not even Lily... What I don't get is why and how it happened.'

'You can't be serious,' Snape snarled. 'you know perfectly well that it is extremely rare to father a child while you're under the influence of Polyjuice Potion... That it should have happened that time is _very _unlikely.'

'Unlikely or not, that must have been the way it happened. There is no other explanation for Harry's change in appearance at this particular time in his life.

'Well,' Snape said softly. 'I see no great change in Potter. You must be imagining things, Lupin. The Wolfsbane Potion sometimes has the side effect of causing an over-active imagination...'

'You know that isn't the case here, Severus. Look at the boy, I ask you... You'll see the likeness, or if you don't want to see it now, you won't be able to avoid seeing it in a few months' time. And you'll have to do something about it, Harry has a right to know.'

'Don't talk to me about Potter's rights, Lupin,' Snape snarled. 'Considering the way he keeps doing things without any right whatsoever... He has no rights so far as I am concerned. Even if what you're insinuating were true, which it isn't.' Snape looked at Lupin with contempt before turning around swiftly and leaving the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

Lupin stayed in his office, thinking of the night when it had all happened. It had been outside the house where Lily and James lived in Godric's Hollow. James had just been to see him; the pair of them had had a terrible row the night before and he'd wanted Lupin's advice. Lupin had left James at his place to go and talk to Lily; he had always been good at that sort of thing. When James and Sirius had fallen out with each other, he'd been the one who brought them back together again. Usually it wasn't very hard to sort things like these out for his friends, it was much more difficult to get some order into his own life...

As he approached the house, however, he suddenly saw something that made him start – James was coming out of it! Had he apparated to get there before Lupin? But why? Lupin was still a fair distance away from the house, and decided to go closer. James was coming down the street, straight towards him. Then he did something really strange – he stopped and looked around, then hurried to an empty phone booth on the other side of the street. While he went there, he seemed to alter – it looked like he was shrinking and his hair was getting longer...

Lupin went over to the phone booth, quickly. As he came there, James was on his way out again – only it wasn't James... It was Severus Snape.

The two men stared angrily at each other, neither of them believing what they saw.

'_What on Earth_ were you doing in there?' Lupin gasped.

'Don't you shout at me,' Snape hissed. 'I was there on Dumbledore's orders.'

Lupin eyed him suspiciously. 'Why you? Why not somebody else?' he asked.

'Why don't you ask Dumbledore about that, and let me get on with my business.'

'I _will_ ask Dumbledore, you can be sure of that.'

They had parted in hostility, but Dumbledore had confirmed Snape's story when Lupin asked him about it later. As to the reason for going to the house in disguise, however, Dumbledore had only said: 'The less you know, the better, Remus. That way no-one else finds out. I'll tell you all about it one day...'

'But why send Snape? Is it really safe?' Lupin had asked.

'I trust Severus Snape,' said Dumbledore simply. 'He was the one best suited to do the job. Trust me, Remus.'

Lupin went back to see James after he had talked to Dumbledore, telling him he had been called away and so hadn't been able to see Lily.

'It's OK, Remus,' James had said. 'I went back to her in the morning, and she was still asleep... And when she woke up, she acted as if we had never fought. So I just left it at that – I was a bit of a git, after all...'

There had to be some way to convince Severus of the truth, Lupin thought. He could make him talk to Harry, perhaps... Or should he involve Dumbledore in this? How much had Dumbledore noticed, he wondered? Did he suspect anything, or did he have too much to do with the Order right now? Perhaps it would be a good idea to speak to the headmaster... But no, Lupin decided to give the matter some more thought before taking any action.


	4. Robes

**Author's Note**: Thanks a lot for the reviews, this is my first fic so I really appreciate getting them!

**Chapter 4**

**Robes**

'I'll give you a potion that makes your hair less greasy,' Hermione told Harry at breakfast the next day. 'My hair goes greasy, too, you know, only it doesn't show so well since it's so curly.'

'I really hope it'll help, because I only just washed my hair and now it's turning greasy even before it's dried completely!' Harry said exasperatedly.

'What do we have now?' Ron asked, stuffing some more bacon into his mouth.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Hermione said, looking at Harry who was still holding out a long strand of hair, examining it anxiously. 'Nobody seems to have any objections against Lupin teaching here again,' she added.

'I think a lot of people have wisened up a bit since last year,' Ron said thoughtfully. 'Dad says it's different at the Ministry now, too.'

'Yes, I suppose it's made a big difference that Madam Bones has become Minister for Magic.'

'Yes, Dad says she's really good.'

'Well, hurry up, you two, or we'll be late for class,' Hermione said, picking up her books.

On the way to the classroom Harry caught himself wondering why Professor Lupin always wore such shabby old robes – even if he did turn into a werewolf every month, surely he could change into some better-looking robes in between? He'd noticed that Lupin's robes had been even shabbier than usual when he met him at Kingsley's place. But surely Dumbledore paid him well enough to get some new robes? Yet Harry had seen Lupin wear his usual old robes at the feast last night, too.

They sat down right at the front of the classroom. Lupin came in, looked at them, and smiled. He looked around at all the faces, so familiar to him. Was it Harry's imagination, or did Lupin's smile stiffen slightly when he looked at him? Nobody else had seemed to notice how Lupin's expression froze, so perhaps it was just himself being paranoid, Harry thought...

It had to be his greasy hair, Harry guessed, once again running his hand through it, feeling the grease. He decided that he had to block all thoughts about greasy hair from his mind completely – it would be a good exercise in Occlumency, make Snape happy... and Dumbledore...

The Lesson was good, even better than the lessons Lupin had had with them in Harry's third year. They were going to work a lot with counter-curses this year, Lupin told them, and Harry was looking forward to this very much. At the end of the class, Lupin told the three of them to stay on a little. He asked them how they had spent the summer, then turned to Harry.

'How are you feeling, Harry?' he asked, looking at him scrutinisingly.

'Fine.' Harry said, looking at Lupin defiantly. Was he going to start commenting his appearance too, now?

'You haven't... felt any pain you couldn't explain lately?'

'No! Why, is something going on with...' he looked at the door, and seeing it was closed, went on, '...Voldemort?'

'No, no, Harry, nothing like that,' Lupin said reassuringly. 'I was just wondering... But if you're feeling well, there's nothing to worry about.' He smiled at them, said a cheerful Good-Bye, and left.

Harry hoped that it wouldn't be like this all day; they had Transfiguration next and he just wished that Professor McGonagall wouldn't mention his looks at all. But he was hoping in vain, because as soon as she had put them to work on transfiguring rabbits into rats (which was, in fact, much harder than transfiguring hedgehogs into pincushions since it was a mammal-to-mammal-transfiguration) she came over to Harry, asking him if he was feeling all right since he was so extremely pale.

Lunch was as usual, and, thankfully, no-one commented on Harry's looks. After that they had Potions, and Harry thought that at least he wouldn't be asked about his looks in this class, although he might receive a snide comment. Harry and Neville tried to avoid complaining about Potions since Ron was looking rather depressed. He went off, instead, to have History of Magic with Professor Binns, muttering something about wishing he'd failed that one too.

Harry wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting Snape again. He still felt really resentful towards him, and he knew Snape was going to treat him in the same sarcastic, humiliating way as always. He hated Snape, there was no other word for it. Harry had talked to Kingsley about it when he'd been staying there, and Kingsley had tried to convince Harry that Snape wasn't to blame for anything that had happened in the spring, but deep inside, Harry still blamed him – for everything.

They were sitting in their seats as Snape swept into the room. He began speaking in his usual, quiet voice, almost a whisper.

'You are here because you received – incredible though it may seem in some cases' He looked at Neville, his cold, black eyes glittering malevolently ' – an Outstanding OWL in the Art of Making Potions. I shall, therefore, expect you to achieve accordingly in _every single class._ Is that clear?' He looked around, once again giving Neville a look that made him shiver, but didn't actually glare at Harry. He then told the class to start working on the Caput Mortuum-Potion, which made your body simulate death for 24 hours.

Harry was surprised at the lack of sarcastic remarks from Snape during the Potions class. Once, he had thought that Snape was about to say something, but he had only looked at him coldly, scrutinisingly, yet without his usual expression of malice. Then he had noticed that Harry returned his gaze, and quickly averted his eyes. Nobody else had noticed, though, not even when Snape had said: 'That will do.' without any further comments, about the sample Harry handed in at the end of the class.

'That wasn't too bad,' Harry said when they were on their way upstairs to have dinner.

'No, Snape wasn't his usual bad-tempered self, was he?' said Hermione, who hadn't been harassed more than maybe once or twice this lesson. 'He left you completely alone, didn't he, Harry?'

'Yes...' said Harry thoughtfully. Then he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his temple; he had tripped on the hem of his robes, so badly that he had fallen. Books, quills and parchment were lying in a heap on the floor together with Harry himself, who was feeling slightly dizzy.

'Harry – how did that happen?' Hermione gasped.

'I – I've no idea...' Harry touched his temple and saw that his fingers had become full of blood.

'You've got to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry, you're bleeding pretty badly.'

'But how? How could I trip like that? Those robes are new, they're from Madam Malkin's... they're not too long...'

'Go on , we have to get to the Hospital Wing – can you try to get up?' Harry rose with some difficulty, his head throbbing with the pain. Neville collected his books while Hermione went with him to see Madam Pomfrey.

'You tripped on your robes, you say, but they're not too long for you?' Madam Pomfrey said while dressing the wound. She looked at him, taking in his appearance. 'Tell me, Potter, when did your hair change?'

'What do you mean, change?' Harry said, upset that she was mentioning his abnormally greasy hair.

'It's different, you know that. When did it change?'

'Oh... During the summer, I suppose... around my birthday or so, at the end of July.'

'I see... and now your robes are too long ... and your face...'

'My face? What about my face? And my robes are new, I told you they can't be too long!'

'You must have noticed your face has changed.'

Harry said nothing.

'So, tell me, Potter, have you been taking Polyjuice Potion lately, like you did a few years ago?'¨

Harry looked at her, stunned. But then he realised that she probably knew because of Hermione, who had accidentally put a cat's hair in her Polyjuice Potion and had to spend weeks in the Hospital Wing afterwards.

'No,' he said vehemently, 'I haven't!'

'Hmmm. Well, Potter, if you experience any more changes, or pains you can't explain, come and tell me immediately. It might be important.'

Harry looked at her angrily, upset about the accusation, then swept out of the Hospital Wing, his too long robes billowing behind him.


	5. A Message

**Chapter five**

**A Message**

The days went by and became weeks, and people seemed to have got used to Harry's looks. They got even more homework than the year before, and Harry didn't have time to go around brooding about his hair anymore. Hermione helped him to put a charm on his robes to make them a little shorter, and after that, Harry soon forgot about the robe incident.

The classes were like they always were, hard work. McGonagall was worse than ever, making them stay on after the lessons if they hadn't mastered a transfiguration, or having them come for remedial Transfiguration if she thought it necessary. This applied to everyone, but to Harry in particular, since she had sworn to make Harry an Auror at any cost.

The only lessons that had actually become easier were, strangely enough, Potions. Snape wasn't his usual self; he didn't humiliate Harry like he had always done; yet he was mean to both Neville and Hermione albeit not quite as much as he had used to. He did make the odd sarcastic remark to Harry, but these remarks were rare and he never kept on harassing Harry during a whole class. Harry found that he succeeded in making potions correctly far more often now than he had before, since he could concentrate on that instead of having to be prepared, constantly, for an attack from Snape. Sometimes, he even enjoyed making potions.

On several occasions, Harry had caught Snape staring at him absent-mindedly, averting his eyes if he realised that Harry had noticed. Harry wondered what was going on; why had Snape changed so much? He didn't have time to think about that, however; he was just thankful that he was being left in peace.

Harry was very much looking forward to the Hallowe'en Party this year, perhaps more so than usual since the workload was so great, and a break was more necessary than it had been during the previous years.

As he was getting ready for the feast, Harry looked into a mirror for the first time since the beginning of the term; normally he was in such a hurry that he had neither time nor any specific reason to look in a mirror. He was surprised, therefore, that his appearance had changed even more since the summer. Once again, he wasn't sure what the difference was – his nose seemed longer... and also – Harry tried to get a glimpse of his profile in the mirror – wasn't it a bit... hooked?

But nobody else had said anything, and they always did if there really was a change... He was imagining things, he must be. He went back to the common room, scanning his friends' faces anxiously in case they showed any sign that they thought he – or his nose – looked odd in any way, but he could see no such signs.

They were a little early for the feast, and on the way there, they met Lupin, who looked even more worn out and worried than usual, his shabby robes torn in new places.

'Ah, hello, you three,' he greeted them. 'I'm glad I met you. I was wondering if you could do me a favour, Harry…' Harry nodded. 'Good... I'd like you to take this letter to professor Snape for me, Harry.'

'OK,' Harry shrugged, looking slightly puzzled.

'And Harry, please wait for a reply... And then bring it straight to me – I'll be in my office. It won't take long, we'll still be in time for the feast, so don't worry!'

'Oh, I can take it, Professor,' Hermione said, seeing the look of discomfort on Harry's face.

'No thank you, Hermione,' Lupin said, smiling, 'I'd like Harry to take it.' With those words Lupin hurried away along the corridor.

'What's up with that?' Ron asked. 'What's he on about? Why Harry?'

'Ah, I don't mind... all that much. It doesn't matter, I'll go.

'We'll come with you, Harry,' Hermione said reassuringly.

'No, go on, you go to the Great Hall and save me a seat. I won't be long.'

Harry made his way down to the Dungeons as quickly as he could; he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. What a strange thing for Lupin to ask... If he wanted to talk to Snape, why didn't he summon him by floo-powder?

'Er... Excuse me, Professor Snape,' Harry said warily as he knocked at the half-opened door. He heard two quick, loud steps and Snape was there, towering in the doorway. He had been getting ready for the feast, too, apparently.

'Potter,' he said coldly. 'Aren't you supposed to be at the feast?'

'I'm on my way there... Sir. Professor Lupin told me to give you this, and bring back a reply... He said it wouldn't take long, I'd be in time for the feast.'

Snape snorted. 'Oh, did he?' He took the letter and tore it open, glancing through it quickly. 'Well, I suppose you'd better come in...' He looked at the letter again. 'Have you read this, Potter?' he asked icily.

'No, Sir... I wouldn't want to intrude on someone's privacy like that,' Harry said, realising, too late, that it might not sound entirely convincing when talking to Snape.

'Really?' Snape sneered, 'You didn't seem to mind entering my Pensieve last year.'

'I'm sorry... _Sir._ I shouldn't have done that.'

Snape's eyes widened in surprise. 'No, Potter, you shouldn't have.' He looked at him, coldly. 'So... Let's have it, Potter... What exactly have you done to change your appearance?'

'Nothing, Sir.' What did Snape mean? Did he honestly think that Harry had changed his looks on purpose? To look like _this_!

'Come now, such a change as this doesn't arise without some manipulation. What have you done?'

'I said, nothing! Give me some Veritaserum if you don't believe me.'

'As much as I'd like to know exactly what offences you are guilty of, Potter, I cannot do that. It's against Ministry guidelines.'

'That didn't seem to bother you last year when you provided Professor Umbridge with it.'

'I never gave that Umbridge woman any real Veritaserum. Even you should realise that, thick as you may be,' Snape said silkily. 'And, in case it had escaped you: she _was_ from the Ministry.' Then his expression altered, and he stared at Harry absentmindedly the way he sometimes did in class. 'Yes, well,' he said after a short while, 'Tell Professor Lupin I'll be there... He'll know what I mean.'

Harry swept out of the room without saying anything.

When he was alone, Snape sat down and read the letter again.

_Dear Severus,_

_I am sending this to you with Harry, because I want you to talk to each other. I think you must realise, deep inside, Severus, that Harry is truly your son. It would be a benefit to both of you to talk to each other – and, some day soon, someone must tell Harry about this. I shall talk to Dumbledore about this, whether you are there or not, on Monday after my last lesson. _

_Remus Lupin_

As much as he hated to admit it, Snape realised that there could be no other explanation for all the strange circumstances around Harry Potter than the fact that he was his son. Looking at him now, there could be no doubt: first there had been the change in his hair and his skin, and now ... his nose was a bit hooked and he even walked the way he did. Deep down he had known this ever since Lupin had first mentioned the possibility to him: that Harry was his son. His ... and Lily's. Snape sighed, pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to go to the feast, or questions would be asked, so he left the dungeons, determined to avoid thinking of these disturbing matters.

During the Hallowe'en feast, Harry's thoughts kept drifting. In the middle of a conversation, he could hear Snape's voice saying 'such a change as this doesn't arise without some manipulation...' and it made him shiver. He took no pleasure whatsoever in the feast, but sat there, waiting for it to end. Thankfully, Hermione, Ron and Ginny didn't seem to notice his discomfort, but were talking and laughing as usual. Only Neville gave him a concerned look once or twice during the evening, but he didn't say anything.

Harry was worried. Why did Snape keep looking at him the way he did? Up until now, Harry hadn't minded Snape staring at him in Potions, since it had some connection with the fact that he wasn't making life hell for Harry during the classes any longer. But now, as Harry looked over to Snape, sitting in his usual seat, he wondered what it meant... Was there something wrong with him? And if so, what was it?

**Author's note**: Thanks again for the reviews – Don't worry, you'll be seeing more interaction between Harry and Snape in a few chapters' time, and yes, he will suspect something soon...


	6. Snape's Memory

**Author's note**: Please accept my apologies in advance for an extremely tacky chapter! I wasn't able to do it any other way... I promise the tackiness will decrease in the following chapters.

**Chapter six**

**Snape's Memory**

After the Feast, Snape went back to the Dungeons on his own, having avoided Lupin during the whole evening. He had also managed to avoid looking at Potter – or maybe he shouldn't go on calling him Potter – but what else could he call him? And now he had left rather early, but he wasn't the first, for that had, in fact, been Potter. Did he know? Had that meddlesome fool Lupin told him? Or could it be that he was worried about the changes in his appearance? For the first time since he'd met him, Snape felt something that wasn't hatred for the boy – he felt something else, more like ... pity.

He went into his bedroom and changed into his grey nightshirt, still annoyed with Lupin for interfering in what certainly wasn't his business. So what, if Potter was his son? That changed nothing. Potter hadn't needed him so far and certainly would not need him now, and besides, Potter hated him just as much as he hated Potter. Surely he wouldn't want him for a father!

Snape thought about the way Potter's face had altered. He was a bit like himself, and that didn't make Snape like him better, but rather the reverse. The one thing that hadn't changed at all were his eyes, Snape thought. Potter still had his mother's eyes... Those beautiful green eyes which Snape had admired so much back then, when they were both still at school. He thought back, remembering the night when it had all happened...

Dumbledore had sent him to Godric's Hollow to fetch the Philosopher's Stone – the Dark Lord had been after it even then, and Dumbledore had kept it hidden in the Potters' house for a short while without Lily and James knowing. Using Polyjuice Potion had been Dumbledore's idea, and it had been a success; the Dark Lord had never suspected anything, nor had anybody else.

Snape thought about that, sometimes, wondering if things would have worked out differently if he hadn't used the Polyjuice Potion, and he always arrived at the same conclusion: they would. He would never have slept with Lily, for one thing, but he strongly suspected that some of the Dark Lord's spies would have got hold of the Philosopher's Stone, if Snape (or anyone else) had gone to the house in Godric's Hollow in a less functional disguise.

While he had been in the house, Lily had come back, in spite of Dumbledore's precautions. Luckily it wasn't James who came, that would have been disastrous indeed! The Philosopher's Stone had been hidden in the bedroom doorknob, and Snape had just managed to get it out and put the doorknob back when he'd heard Lily come in through the front door, sobbing.

It turned out she'd had a row with that big fool of a man James Potter - always so full of himself - but of course Snape didn't know that until later. He had hidden in the bedroom, hoping she wouldn't come upstairs, but when he'd heard her footsteps on the stairs, he'd sat down on the bed, knowing he would have to pretend to her that he was James.

It wouldn't have been so hard, perhaps, if he hadn't been in love with Lily for such a long time before that moment. He had tried to talk to Lily that night, to make up some excuse for leaving the house again, but to no effect. If he hadn't loved her, he'd have been able to be a lot more brusque. Then he could have walked away, pushed her away from him when she stood there, crying on his shoulder. Then he wouldn't have wanted to pull her close, to hold her and comfort her and make sure she'd never feel sad again. Then Harry wouldn't have been his son.

But he was his son; Snape was completely sure of that now. It couldn't be any other way. It was unbearable, the thought of having – that brat – for a son! To think that that _one_ occasion had led to... Snape shuddered. He still found it hard to believe that Harry wasn't James's son – he was so like him in every way, not only in appearance. He was arrogant like him, convinced of his own superiority to everyone and everything, the school rules especially... He was cheeky, talking back to the teachers... Everything James had been, and more.

Or was he? Was he really like James? Wasn't he a bit different? True, he did defy school rules, but had he ever been bullying people like James had used to? Snape thought back to the Occlumency lessons. What he had seen there, of Harry's memories, had not corresponded to the picture he had of the boy. Quite the reverse; it had reminded him of his own childhood to a certain extent. That cousin of his, bullying him... His relatives' behaviour, letting a dog chase him up a tree... That was not the childhood you'd expect The Boy Who Lived to have had. Although he would never have admitted it, Snape had found these memories disturbing even back then. But he hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been wrong about the boy. Now, however, things were different.

Snape suddenly found himself considering what would have happened if he had found out that Harry was his son back then, when Lily and James were killed. Would Dumbledore have asked him to take care of Harry? And would he have said yes? No, Dumbledore probably wouldn't, Snape decided; the reason he had sent the boy to live with his muggle relations in the first place was the lingering protection Lily had given him that night when she died. It would not have worked, had the boy lived with his father – Snape. But had he known back then that Harry was his son, would he have let Dumbledore have his way? Would he have given him up without a fight? Snape had no answer to these questions.

He thought again about the boy. He had been behaving reasonably well the last couple of months, Snape couldn't deny it. If he talked back to Malfoy, that was understandable, after all... Malfoy was a pain, especially when you had to be nice to him like Snape did. And Harry did do a lot better in Potions now that he was left to his own devices a little more... Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. Perhaps – Snape had to admit it – perhaps Lupin was right; he should talk to the boy some time... get to know a little more about him...


	7. Enter Dumbledore

**Chapter seven **

**Enter Dumbledore**

As he had promised, Snape went to see Dumbledore – and Lupin – on Monday afternoon. It was with slight trepidation that Snape knocked at the Headmaster's door. Lupin, he saw, was already there.

'Ah, Severus,' said Dumbledore, 'We've been waiting for you. Please, have a seat.' Snape sat down. Dumbledore looked expectantly from one to the other.

'As I was saying, Headmaster,' said Lupin, 'We want to discuss Harry Potter with you.'

'Ah, yes.' Dumbledore glanced at Snape, a look of mild curiosity on his face, and then turned back to Lupin.

'You have, no doubt, noticed the changes in Harry's appearance this term,' Lupin went on.

'Yes, indeed; several members of the staff have been to see me about it... Poppy seemed to think that he might have been dabbling in Polyjuice Potion again, but the symptoms aren't exactly as would be expected... What do you think, Severus?'

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'Well, Headmaster,' he said, clearing his throat, 'Polyjuice Potion may indeed have something to do with it, although perhaps not in the way you think.'

'Headmaster,' said Lupin, 'I am sure you remember that, seventeen years ago, you sent Severus on a mission to Godric's Hollow, disguised as James Potter. Seventeen years – I am sure I need not tell you what happens if Polyjuice Potion is used under – er – certain circumstances. Harry... is now sixteen years old, and... well, I think you get my point.'

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. 'Well – that would, indeed, explain everything... Severus – I assume this is correct?'

'Yes, Headmaster,' said Snape, avoiding Dumbledore's gaze. Dumbledore said nothing for a while, and Lupin and Snape remained silent as well, leaving the headmaster to his own thoughts. Snape looked to his left and caught a glimpse of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus in front of his Slytherin Banner. He noticed that he seemed to be trying very hard not to snigger. After a few minutes, Dumbledore spoke again.

'Well, this does change quite a few things. Does Harry know about this?'

'We haven't told him,' said Lupin, 'although the changes in his appearance must have led him to suspect that something isn't as it should be.'

'Yes, quite,' said Dumbledore.

'I think he should be told as soon as possible,' said Lupin gravely. 'I'm sure he is worried about everything that has happened to him this term...'

'What do you think, Severus?'

'I hardly think Potter will be turning cart-wheels at the thought of my being his father,' Snape sneered. Perhaps he imagined it, but he thought that Dumbledore looked rather pleased at hearing these words.

'Would you excuse us, Remus,' said Dumbledore, 'I shall need to speak to Severus alone.' Lupin nodded and left the room. Snape was still avoiding Dumbledore's eyes; he felt like a schoolboy who had been summoned to the Headmaster's office for some offence he had committed – which, come to think of it, he had.

'So, Severus,' Dumbledore went on, 'you have known about this for some time now, is that right?'

'Well, Lupin mentioned his suspicions to me after the Start-of-Term-Banquet, but I didn't believe him – I didn't want to believe him.'

'But you believe him now?'

'How can I not – Potter has changed even more since then, even I cannot deny it anymore... Every time I look at him, I see a mixture of myself and Lily...'

'Why didn't you tell me what had happened when you came back from Godric's Hollow?' Dumbledore said without any trace of accusation in his voice.

'I didn't for a moment expect that this would be the consequence... I thought there was no harm done, as long as no one but myself knew what had happened.' He paused. 'But I was wrong.'

'Be that as it may,' said Dumbledore briskly, ' – as of now, our first priority must be Harry. I'm sure he is in considerable distress; we must decide what to do about it. Sooner or later, Harry will find out, one way or another, that you are his father, whether you want it or not. Considering everything that has passed between the two of you, I know this cannot be easy for you. So I need to know, Severus, if you are prepared to deal with the problems that may arise.'

'I daresay I shall have to be prepared, Headmaster.'

'Yes... But to be obliged to and to accept something willingly are two different things, Severus. I know your relation to the boy became even more strained after the ... Occlumency debacle last year...'

Snape's face was inscrutable as he looked at Dumbledore. 'It may take me a while to fully come to terms with the fact that he is my son, but I assure you that once I have done so, I will act accordingly.'

'Very well.' Dumbledore looked pleased. He paused, seeming to be deep in thought. 'Considering the strong feelings Harry has always had for his father – that is to say, James Potter – I think it best if I were to tell him,' he added after a while.

'I agree, Headmaster. If you would be so kind as to let me know when you have told him...'

'Certainly, Severus. No doubt he will want to see you sooner or later.'

'Yes, I should like to be prepared for such a meeting.'

'I quite understand. Talking about that...' Dumbledore looked at a table next to Snape, which held a collection of obscure silver instruments. 'I might just remove these before I summon him.'

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched slightly. 'Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, Headmaster?'

'Not at present, Severus. Good Night.'

Snape nodded curtly and swept out of the room.

'Well, well, well ... That certainly was an interesting conversation!' a voice came from the wall. Phineas Nigellus was leaning casually against the frame of his painting. 'Who would have thought that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated the Dark Lord, Gryffindor's Golden Boy, is in fact the son of a former Death Eater, not to mention the head of Slytherin House!'

'Who indeed, Phineas,' Dumbledore chuckled, 'who indeed!' He sat back, putting his fingertips together, deep in thought. After several minutes he got up, went over to a cupboard, and took out a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols. He put his wand to his temple and began extracting long, silvery strands of thoughts, putting them into his Pensieve.

**Author's Note: **I hope you all liked my characterisation of Professor Dumbledore – I very much enjoy writing him. Please, don't hesitate to review if you have anything to comment on!


	8. Answers

Chapter eight  
  
Changes  
  
Answers  
  
Harry hadn't been able to sleep properly for the last couple of weeks, not since he'd had that conversation with Snape. He was preoccupied all the time, and had trouble paying attention in class. Even Ginny, who was now chaser on the Gryffindor team, had asked him after Quidditch Practise why he was having such trouble concentrating.  
If he had been avoiding mirrors before, he now took every opportunity he got to look at his own reflection. What was wrong with him? He was beginning to look like somebody else; he was beginning to look like – he could hardly bring himself to think the name – he was beginning to look like... Snape.  
Had someone cast a spell on him to make him look like the person he hated most? Malfoy perhaps? He wouldn't put it past Snape himself either, but it wasn't really his style. Yes, that had to be it: Malfoy had cast a spell on him. Maybe Snape had helped Malfoy, maybe he'd taught him some dark magic; it had to be dark magic, a spell like that... He'd done similar things before; he'd taught Draco that Serpensortia curse in second year...  
Harry was upset now, really upset. He hadn't spoken to Professor Dumbledore since he'd gone berserk in his office at the end of last term (he still hadn't really forgiven him for not speaking to him all last year) but now he felt that he had to talk to him all the same. The strange dreams had continued too, the ones where he looked into his mirror and saw Snape's face instead of his own; that had to be part of the curse as well.  
Harry went to the huge stone gargoyle at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. What sweet could it be this time? It turned out he didn't have to guess, because suddenly the gargoyle slid aside and Dumbledore came out.  
'Ah, hello, Harry,' he said, looking at him earnestly. His eyes did not twinkle. 'I was wondering when you'd come to see me.'  
Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore so serious – was he annoyed about Harry's behaviour at the end of last year, perhaps? After all, those silver instruments he'd thrashed might have been rather valuable and maybe even difficult to get hold of. 'H-hello,' Harry stammered.  
'Why don't you wait for me inside, Harry,' Dumbledore said, 'I'll only be a minute.'  
Harry went up the moving stairs and into the round office. It was exactly as he remembered it, only the silver instruments he had smashed the last time were now missing. Fawkes, the Phoenix, was sitting in his usual place and he could see the Pensieve standing on Dumbledore's desk. He wouldn't even go near it, Harry decided, remembering his conversation with Snape.  
But what was that – it looked like his own face was floating there, on the surface of the mysterious liquid in the Pensieve. In spite of his decision, he went closer to it. He looked into it, at the face he saw floating there. Now he could see that it wasn't him after all, but a young Severus Snape. Harry was shocked that he, obviously, looked so much like Snape that he mistook Snape for himself.  
Now he saw the young Snape talking in the Pensieve. He looked down into it (he definitely wouldn't go down into the Pensieve, but a quick look wouldn't hurt). Snape was here, in Dumbledore's office, talking to the latter.  
'But why me?' Snape said to Dumbledore. 'Anyone could do it. Surely it would be much simpler – and safer – to send one of the Potters' friends there...'  
'No, Severus,' Harry could hear Dumbledore's voice echoing in the room. He edged closer to get a better view of Dumbledore, and then it happened – he plunged down into the Pensieve once again. Well, now that he was here, he might as well stay and find out what this was all about. Snape had, after all, mentioned his parents' name.  
'You must trust me, Dumbledore went on. 'You are the only person capable of doing this.'  
'What about Lupin?' Snape asked, looking slightly paler than usual.  
'He is not suitable for the job...' Dumbledore sighed. 'I promise you, Severus, that if there was any other way, I wouldn't make you do this. But as it is, I hope you will agree...'  
'As you wish.' Snape took out a phial from his pocket and gave it to Dumbledore, who opened it and added a short, black hair. The potion inside turned red. Dumbledore gave it back to Snape, who eyed it disgustedly, and then took a large gulp of it. This had to be Polyjuice Potion, Harry realised, wondering who Snape was going to turn into. He watched Snape change the same way they had in their second year, and turn into ... a young man, slightly taller than before, with black, untidy hair ... James Potter!  
Dumbledore looked at him, apprehensively. 'Don't forget, Severus,' he said, 'that you must not, under any circumstances whatsoever, reveal your true identity.'  
  
Before he had time to think, there was a swirl and Harry realised this was another memory. He was still in Dumbledore's office, but it wasn't the same day; that memory had taken place at night, while this was in the morning; the sun was shining brightly... Professor Lupin was there, looking upset about something.  
'You are right, Remus,' Dumbledore said to Lupin. 'I did send Severus Snape to the Potters' house last night.' He looked at Lupin benignly.  
'Snape – but why? I mean, why him? Surely you know that he is probably a Death Eater? How can you trust him? And how can you send him to James and Lily's house, disguised as James?'  
'It was the only way, Remus. I'd have sent you, but you know you can't use Polyjuice Potion because of your condition.' 'But why send Snape? Is it really safe?' Lupin had asked. 'I trust Severus Snape,' said Dumbledore simply. 'He was the one best suited to do the job. Trust me, Remus.'  
'But what was he doing there?'  
'The less you know, the better, Remus. That way no-one else finds out. I'll tell you all about it one day...'  
'But Lily was there, in the house!' Lupin exclaimed.  
Dumbledore looked slightly taken aback, but composed himself quickly. 'Severus did not mention this to me last night ... perhaps she was asleep and never saw him.'  
'Oh, well... I suppose you're right.'  
  
This was strange, Harry thought. Why on Earth had Dumbledore sent Snape to his parents' house disguised as his father? And what had he done there? When had this happened? His parents were obviously married, but had he, Harry, been born yet? Lupin didn't seem to trust Snape, so that meant that he didn't yet know that he was working for the Order of the Phoenix; it had to be some time before the fall of Voldemort, then.  
What had happened in Godric's Hollow, and why had Dumbledore put these memories into his Pensieve right now? Harry ran a hand through his greasy hair, but stopped in mid-air. He tried to think, desperately. Snape – James Potter – Polyjuice Potion. Could it be possible? Madam Pomfrey had asked him about it... But surely, the effects of Polyjuice Potion wore off in an hour if you didn't take more? Harry was gasping for breath. No... NO! This was just too terrible!  
How did you get out of these pensieves, Harry wondered. He wanted to get out of here, now – and suddenly he landed on the floor in Dumbledore's office, a sharp pain in his knee where it had hit the stone surface. Harry was out of breath. This was so awful. Dumbledore still wasn't back, and Harry was glad; he couldn't face him right now. He just wanted to get out of here fast. He left the office at a run, the Gargoyle swinging aside to let him out.  
  
Author's note: Again, thanks a lot for the reviews; I really appreciate them! You, like Harry, will get answers to some of your questions in the following chapters, so please, keep reading and reviewing! 


	9. Denial

Chapter nine  
  
Denial  
  
After his dive into Dumbledore's memory, Harry had wandered the Hogwarts grounds for what seemed like ages, thinking about what he had seen. Snape, in Godric's Hollow, with Harry's mother ... Was it really possible? Snape – how he hated him. Although Harry had realised during the last couple of months that Snape wasn't actually to blame for Sirius's death, he still loathed him for the way he had treated him and his friends, always taking points from Gryffindor without a proper cause, bullying Neville, favouring the Slytherins and that brat Malfoy in particular, not to mention how he had always behaved towards Harry. But how could it have happened? There was only one person who would know this kind of thing.  
Harry tried, desperately, to find Hermione, and eventually did so in the Great Hall, where lunch was being served. Hermione sat opposite Ron, as usual, both of them talking vividly.  
'Krum?' he could hear Ron saying, 'What? He's written again?'  
'You know perfectly well he writes every fortnight, Ron, there's no need to get upset... again.'  
'I just hope you're not telling him anything about the Order – '  
  
'No, of course not!' Hermione said irritably.  
'Well, you might, a slip of the quill happens easily... What do you have to write to each other, anyway? Nothing interesting has happened here in the last months... Nothing that would interest Vicky, at least...'  
'Just because you can never think of anything to write about in your letters, it doesn't mean that I can't! And stop calling him Vicky – it's Viktor!'  
'Hermione,' said Harry, panting slightly, interrupting the steady stream of annoyed comments.  
'Harry,' Hermione exclaimed, 'where have you been – you've missed both Charms and Transfiguration!'  
'Oh, never mind that now,' Harry said, ignoring the disapproving look on Hermione's face, 'I have to ask you something ...' He paused for a moment, considering where to begin. 'Er... You know, the way I've changed... I mean, I ... kind of look different now, and ... I don't know ... Hermione, what could have caused this? What do you think? I mean, it couldn't have been ...'  
Ron interrupted him. 'What do you mean? It's only adolescence, Harry ... Although you have changed quite a lot, but I guess some people change more than others, right, Hermione?'  
Hermione looked at Harry, thoughtfully.  
'And I mean, you're different in a lot of ways, Harry, so maybe that's why you're changing so much ... It might have something to do with You-Know-Who ...' Ron looked pleased with himself for coming to this conclusion, taking a large bite of roast chicken.  
'What were you going to say, Harry?' Hermione asked, still looking at him scrutinisingly.  
'Well,' Harry lowered his voice, '... It's my nose ... you don't think it's altered, do you? I mean, it's always been a bit hooked, hasn't it? I just never noticed it before.' He turned his head to show them his profile.  
'Yeah, you're right,' Ron said loudly, 'It is hooked, I never noticed that before, either ...'  
Hermione looked at Harry, a puzzled expression on her face. 'I don't remember it looking like that before,' she said quietly; then, seeing the expression on Harry's face, added, 'But I suppose it might have...'  
Harry stomach churned. It had to be the way he feared. He took a deep breath and asked: 'Look, Hermione, what do you know about Polyjuice Potion?'  
'Well, I'd say rather a lot, but you know almost everything I know, Harry... Why?'  
'I was wondering about the effects it has if ... if your parents use it.'  
'What?' Hermione looked perplexed, glancing at Ron who was munching away at his chicken, about to wash down the last bits with pumpkin juice. 'Why on Earth would you want to know that?' Hermione asked in a whisper.  
'Oh, well, it's just that... I was wondering what would happen if, say, someone's mother or father used it,' he was whispering now, 'before they were born...'  
'Oh, well, that's extremely rare, of course, but if a child is conceived under the influence of Polyjuice Potion, its effects wear off after about sixteen years...' Hermione gasped, holding her hand over her mouth. 'Harry, no! You don't think ... But who?'  
Ron was staring at them, an expression of utter bewilderment on his face. 'What are you two on about? I don't get it, why all this talk about Polyjuice Potion? I mean, it's years since we used it, it couldn't affect Harry now, could it?'  
At that moment, Lavender Brown walked past. 'Hey, Ron, you'd better hurry up, or you'll be late for History of Magic! Not that Binns would notice,' she added in an undertone.  
Ron rose, draining his goblet of pumpkin juice, then called, 'Lavender, wait – can I copy your notes from last week during this class?' He turned to Harry and Hermione. 'Gotta go ... See you later!'  
Harry and Hermione hardly noticed Ron leave, however. They were staring at each other, comprehension dawning on Hermione's face. 'Not – him!' she went on in a barely audible whisper. 'Harry, tell me it isn't ... who I think it is.'  
'NO!' Harry paused. 'It can't be. There must be some other explanation ...'  
'But Harry,' Hermione said anxiously, 'If this is true...'  
'I'm telling you it's NOT! There has to be some... I don't want to talk about it!'  
Hermione looked as if she was going to try to convince Harry that he had to face up to things, but then thought better of it and said, 'All right, we'd better get going, it's no good being late for ... Potions.' She gave Harry a worried glance. 'But maybe you shouldn't go, Harry ... You don't look all that well ... Why don't you go to the Hospital Wing instead? You're upset – it might not be a good idea to face ... Snape ... in this condition.'  
'I'M NOT UPSET!' Harry shouted. 'I have nothing to be upset about, and there's no reason why I shouldn't face SNAPE!' He got up, taking his bag, striding out of the Great Hall, Hermione following him at a run.  
The fact was, however, that the very last thing Harry felt like doing right now was to see Snape, let alone spend an entire Potions class with him. He would much rather go back to Gryffindor Tower, spending the afternoon there on his own, trying to come up with some other explanation for what he had seen in the Pensieve ... There had to be one.  
They walked down the steps to the Dungeons, Harry having an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, whether it was from lack of food or something else, he didn't know. As they approached the Potions Classroom they realised that the rest of the class was already inside and Snape was about to close the door. As they came running towards him, he surveyed them coolly through curtains of greasy hair.  
'Potter ... Granger,' he said softly. 'You're late.'  
  
Author's note: Thank you all so much for the reviews, getting feedback is really important to me!!! In the next chapter, CapitalLetters!Harry makes a triumphant return... So keep reading – and keep the reviews coming, please! 


	10. Facing up to Facts

Chapter ten  
  
Facing up to Facts  
  
'Ten points from Gryffindor,' Snape said silkily, closing the door behind them. They hurried to their seats, Harry having to restrain himself from taking hold of Snape's black robes, shaking him and shouting 'What the hell did you do to my mother!!!' Hermione seemed to be aware of this, because she was holding his sleeve in an annoying way, making sure he came with her to the table where Neville was already sitting.  
As they sat down, Neville also seemed to notice that Harry was furious. 'What's happened?' he whispered to Hermione while Snape turned to the blackboard, flicking his wand to make the instructions for today's potion appear there. Neville's look of concern made Harry even angrier. 'NOTHING!' he hissed, just as Snape turned around again, eyeing them suspiciously. Harry looked back at him, his eyes narrowing malevolently.  
Harry couldn't care less about doing well in Potions today; he wouldn't even mind if Snape took 100 points from Gryffindor for some reason. He almost hoped that Snape would get really angry and shout at him, so he'd have a reason to shout back. But then, of course, Snape hadn't been shouting at him all that much lately. In fact, he'd been surprisingly lenient towards Harry this term. Could it be that he, too, was suspecting something? Did he know? Had he always known that Harry might be... he could hardly bring himself to think it... his son? But no, Snape had always hated him for being James's child. He couldn't possibly think that Harry was his own son, and besides, he wasn't. He was NOT Snape's son!  
Harry did his work mechanically today, almost hoping that something would go terribly wrong, just to take his mind off things. If his cauldron would melt or explode, at least he wouldn't have to think about his possible connection with Snape for a while. But nothing went wrong; in fact, Harry was among the few students who successfully completed their potion this class. Even Hermione seemed to have made a mistake today, for the first time ever, as far as Harry knew. Her potion smelt strongly of manure.  
Snape was going round, inspecting the potions, giving snide comments to most of the students, but only raising an eyebrow when looking at Harry's potion. At Hermione's cauldron he paused: 'You seem to have forgotten the Essence of Belladonna, Miss Granger,' he said softly. 'Very unlike you.' He walked away without taking any points from Gryffindor, much to Hermione's surprise and Harry's disappointment.  
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was Dumbledore. The whole class stared at him in awe; they had never seen the Headmaster down here in the Dungeons, nor in any other classroom for that matter. Snape, too, looked mildly surprised. 'Good afternoon, Headmaster,' he said smoothly.  
'Good afternoon, Severus.'  
Snape waited as though he expected Dumbledore to give some explanation for his visit there, but Dumbledore simply stood there, beaming benevolently. 'Ah, I see you are making the Nighteye Potion today,' he said. 'I remember my brother Aberforth had some trouble making that potion when he was at Hogwarts... He forgot to add the Essence of Belladonna, so it smelt of manure... I don't know whether he did it on purpose...'  
The whole class stared at him in confusion, as did Snape.  
'Is there anything I can do for you, Headmaster?' Snape asked.  
'I wanted to speak to Harry,' Dumbledore said smilingly. 'But I'll just wait until you're finished here.'  
Snape turned back to the class. 'Very well, you may hand in your samples now,' he said curtly. Harry looked defiantly at Dumbledore, wishing he would leave; he had no wish whatsoever to hear Dumbledore's explanations for the memories in his Pensieve, whatever they might be. But Dumbledore stayed there, his gaze coming to rest on Harry from time to time, while they were all cleaning up their tables and packing their things.  
Harry stayed on when the rest of the class had left, Hermione giving him an anxious glance on her way out.  
'Would you like me to leave, Headmaster?' Snape said.  
'No, Severus, I think it would be better for you to stay.'  
Harry could see Snape giving Dumbledore a questioning look, but Dumbledore only nodded reassuringly.  
'So, Harry,' Dumbledore went on, 'I expected to find you in my office, but when I returned there you had already left...'  
'I – I was in a hurry,' Harry said defiantly, wishing Dumbledore would leave him alone; he had no desire to speak to him, especially not in the presence of Snape.  
'So, tell me, Harry, am I correct in assuming that you saw certain memories which I had left (rather foolishly, I must admit) in my Pensieve?'  
Snape tried to hide a snort, pretending to tidy up among the phials of potion and just-handed-in essays on his desk.  
'Yeah, I did,' said Harry accusingly, 'and I saw HIM going to my parents' house, disguised as my dad!' He pointed a long, thin finger at Snape, who had looked up from his desk again. 'And my mum was there, Lupin said so! What did he do there? What business did he have in my parents' house?'  
'Professor Snape was there on my orders, Harry,' said Dumbledore gravely, 'he was there on a mission for the Order. It was my intention to tell you about it this morning. That was part of the reason why I had put those memories in my Pensieve.' He looked at Harry searchingly. 'But Harry, why don't you tell me what you wanted to see me about in the first place?'  
Harry could see Snape looking at him with a strange expression on his face, almost as if he were nervous.  
'It was nothing. I don't want to talk about it.'  
'Are you sure? I had the impression it was something rather important you wanted to discuss with me, something that had been worrying you...'  
'No – not while he is here, anyway,' Harry said pointing at Snape again.  
'Oh, but I think this concerns Professor Snape too, Harry. You know it does, don't you?'  
'No – I don't know what you mean! Why should it concern Snape?'  
'Professor Snape, Harry,' said Dumbledore gently.  
'I DON'T HAVE TO CALL HIM PROFESSOR IF HE'S MY FATHER, DO I?' Harry shouted at the top of his voice. There was a ringing silence during which both Snape and Dumbledore stared at Harry, who couldn't believe what he had just said. He had to get out of there, immediately! He turned to the door, but before he could open it he felt Dumbledore's hand on his arm, holding him back with a surprising amount of strength. He turned around again, furiously, and caught sight of Snape's face over Dumbledore's shoulder. There was an expression on it that Harry had never seen before, and he wasn't entirely sure what it was. Could it be ... sorrow?  
'Is it true?' Harry whispered incredulously. 'Did you... did you... with my mum?!'  
Snape nodded hesitantly. Harry was shaking with anger, and he didn't even notice that Dumbledore's grip on his arm had tightened considerably.  
'How could you?' he roared. 'How COULD you, you disgusting... you vile... you filthy...'  
'Calm down, Harry,' Dumbledore said soothingly.  
'Don't you tell me to calm down!' Harry hissed. 'You knew about this! You knew about it and you didn't tell me. If you hadn't made him go there it wouldn't even have happened in the first place!'  
Dumbledore sighed and surveyed him through his half-moon spectacles. 'Harry, unbelievable though it may seem, this is nobody's fault. None of us realised that you might be Professor Snape's son until you came back to Hogwarts this term, looking different. It is extremely rare, almost unheard of, for a child to be conceived under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. Professor Snape never suspected that it might have happened that night in Godric's Hollow...'  
'THAT STILL DOESN'T MAKE IT ALL RIGHT FOR HIM TO DECEIVE MY MUM THAT WAY!' Harry shouted.  
Dumbledore sighed again. 'Under the circumstances, Professor Snape was forced to keep his disguise at any cost...'  
'No, Headmaster,' Snape interrupted him, 'you needn't defend me. He is right. I should not have done what I did under any circumstances. I can say nothing in my defence except that I... that I loved Lily, very much. More than you could possibly imagine.'  
Harry stared at him, unbelievingly. The thought of Snape being in love with anyone, let alone his mother, was unlikely to say the least. Harry couldn't imagine Snape being capable of such an emotion at all. And besides, he had once heard him call Lily a Mudblood.  
'Harry, I know this is difficult for you to accept,' Dumbledore said, 'and I expect it will take some time for you to come to terms with it. But you had to know. You must agree with me on that.' He eyed Harry scrutinisingly. 'Perhaps it would be best for you to return to Gryffindor Tower now. I will see to it that you are excused from the rest of your classes this afternoon. If you want to talk more about this later, you may of course always come to my office.'  
Harry turned on his heel, and without giving either of them a further look he swept out of the classroom, his black robes billowing behind him. 


	11. Fatherless

Chapter 11  
  
Fatherless  
  
Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower in a daze. The next class had already started, so he didn't meet any students on his way – thankfully. He went up to the dormitory. He was exhausted after the day's events and didn't want to think about what he had found out, he just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in the morning, realising that this had all been a dream.  
Outside the window he could see some Gryffindor third years who were clearly skiving off whatever lesson they were supposed to have, sitting under that same beech tree where his father – or rather, James Potter – had sat with his friends after their OWL exams. The thought of James made him shiver. The memory of his father had always been such a comfort to him, but now he didn't know what to make of it.  
He lay down on the bed, but jumped up again almost immediately, walking over to the mirror. He stared at his own image, so like Snape. His pale, thin face was framed by curtains of greasy black hair. He raised his hand to brush it aside and started at the sight of his long, thin fingers.  
There was no denying it: Dumbledore and Snape had been telling the truth. Why was this happening to him? Didn't he have enough trouble in his life, with the Dursleys, Malfoy and Voldemort? Not to mention what was coming; the fact that he was the one who would have to defeat the Dark Lord was weighing heavily upon him indeed. Unless ... Harry froze. Did the Prophecy really apply to him now?  
Harry tried to think. This altered everything. Suddenly, Harry was feeling completely different. Even a remote possibility that he wouldn't have to face Voldemort again, at least not with the main responsibility, was a relief to him. Of course, this still didn't mean that he was happy about Snape being his father ... but there was no black cloud without a silver lining. He would have to talk to Dumbledore about this, to make sure it was really true, but it had to be. If Snape was his father, Harry couldn't be the boy in the prophecy ...Yes, he would go and ask Dumbledore – although, the way he felt now, he would really prefer never to see him again ...  
When Hermione returned from her last lesson, Harry had calmed down sufficiently to be able to pretend to her that nothing had happened, that Dumbledore had merely wanted to discuss some triviality. Hermione, afraid of another emotional outburst, didn't pursue the matter further, and even accepted Harry's claim that he had been wrong about the Polyjuice Potion. That night, at Quidditch practice, Harry was able to concentrate properly for the first time since Hallowe'en, but later, when he was about to sleep, the fact that Snape was his father hit him again with a vengeance.  
After a sleepless night, Harry decided to go and look up Dumbledore after all. He was still furious with him, but he was the only person with whom he could discuss the Prophecy, and he desperately needed to do that. Once again, Harry met Dumbledore at the stone Gargoyle, where he had gone straight after breakfast, only this time he didn't leave Harry but went back up to the office with him.  
'I thought you might want to see me, Harry,' Dumbledore said gravely, 'in fact I was just on my way out to look for you. How are you feeling?'  
'Fine,' Harry lied. 'I just wanted to ask you about something.'  
Dumbledore nodded. 'Is this about the Prophecy?'  
Harry stared at him in disbelief. 'Yes,' he said quietly. How had Dumbledore known? 'It can't be me now, can it?' Harry went on. 'It must mean Neville now. That's the only option, isn't it? I mean, the Prophecy said "born to those who have thrice defied him" ... Snape didn't defy Voldemort three times, did he?'  
Dumbledore sighed. 'Well, Harry,' he said slowly, 'it just so happens that Professor Snape had also defied Voldemort three times at the time the Prophecy was made.' He looked at Harry, his face full of compassion. 'I am sorry.'  
Harry's heart sank, but was soon filled with rage again.  
'So not only do I have to face Voldemort, but I have to face Snape as my father as well ...' he said bitterly.  
'I know that you and Professor Snape have not always been on the best of terms, Harry, but I assure you he has qualities other than those he shows his students. If you will only give him a chance, you will see that he has a different side too. As you know, his days as a student at Hogwarts weren't always easy ...'  
Harry felt a pang of guilt, thinking about the time he had violated Snape's Pensieve, but he quickly suppressed the feeling. Snape was not to be pitied, certainly not after what he had done to Harry's mother. 'If you think so much of him, how come you've never given him the Defence Against the Dark Arts job?' Harry snapped. 'He's applied for it every year since he got here, hasn't he?'  
'I have my reasons, Harry,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'But that doesn't mean–'  
He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.  
'Excuse me, Harry,' Dumbledore said, and then, in a louder voice, 'Enter!'  
The door opened, and none other than Snape walked into the room.  
'Good morning, Headmaster,' he said, and then stopped at the sight of Harry. 'Oh, er ... Potter ...'  
'That's not correct, is it, Professor Snape?' Harry said silkily.  
Snape looked slightly taken aback. 'Perhaps you would like me to come back later, Headmaster?'  
'On the contrary, Severus,' Dumbledore said firmly. 'Please sit down.'  
Harry caught sight of Phineas Nigellus, dressed in the Slytherin colours. Did he imagine it, or did Phineas smile approvingly at hearing Dumbledore's words? Or ... sarcastically, perhaps? Snape sat down in the chair next to Harry, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Harry rose swiftly.  
'I'm leaving now!' he said, turning on his heel.  
'Please wait, Harry,' Dumbledore said.  
Harry turned around again. 'Why? We have NOTHING more to discuss! I've never had a father, and I don't need one now ... certainly not him!' He threw a quick glance in Snape's direction. 'As far as I'm concerned, James Potter is still my father, and we can all just pretend that this never happened.'  
Dumbledore and Snape looked at him for a few moments, Dumbledore's face solemn, and Snape's as inscrutable as ever. Before either of them had time to say anything, Harry left the office, slamming the heavy door shut behind him. Snape turned his gaze towards Dumbledore.  
'So, that certainly went well, Headmaster,' he sneered.  
Dumbledore looked at him sadly. 'I wish you two could put your differences behind you, Severus,' he said.  
'I'm perfectly willing to do so,' Snape snapped. 'You have no idea how lenient I have been towards the boy this term, Headmaster.'  
'I'm afraid one term of ... leniency does not make up for five years of ... well, shall we say, lack of empathy.'  
Snape looked annoyed, but didn't say anything. Dumbledore clearly didn't realise what an effort it took to be kind to Harry, or, come to think of it, any student. But then, of course, Harry wasn't just any student, he had to admit that.  
'If you could only make more of an effort, Severus,' Dumbledore said imploringly. 'You are the parent after all. Harry is still young enough not to be able to handle this kind of trauma, especially with the background he has. You do know about how his muggle relatives treat him, don't you?'  
'Well ... yes, I do. I saw some of his memories during our Occlumency lessons.'  
'Then you must realise that it is up to you to take the first step.'  
Snape sighed heavily. 'Yes, Headmaster. I shall do my best.'  
  
During dinner that night, Snape watched Harry, looking at him as he never had before. Preoccupied as he had been by his own feelings towards Harry, he had not expected that Harry's reaction to all of this would affect him so much.  
The previous day, when Dumbledore had come into his classroom, Snape had thought that he had come there to tell him that he had already told Harry everything. When he realised that this was not the case, and that Dumbledore wanted to tell Harry right there and then, his first reaction had been to leave the room, but Dumbledore, of course, had not let him. And Harry had already known. Snape wondered whether Dumbledore had left his Pensieve out on purpose ...  
He had expected Harry to be furious, to shout at him, but he hadn't thought about the possibility that Harry might ask about Lily. He had expected Harry to blame him for deceiving James, perhaps, but not Lily. That had been the most difficult thing to face – Harry's accusations involving the woman he had once loved. That was probably the reason why he had told him what he had never told anyone before – that he had, indeed, loved her.  
It had almost been a relief to him today, when Harry had talked about James instead of Lily. At the same time he realised that, deep down, he felt hurt by his rejection. By now, he had got used to the idea of having a son – of having Harry as a son. And he had come to like the idea, shocking as it might seem.  
Yes ... he had to admit it; he had almost begun to like Harry.  
  
*** H  
  
Author's Note: I am aware that this chapter resembles the last one, but I felt that poor Harry had to talk this over once more with Dumbledore and Snape. In the coming chapters, some of Harry's friends will find out about Snape – so read and enjoy!  
  
Time has come to thank my reviewers and answer some questions/give comments ... Only for the reviews on chapter 10 though, as it would take me all night otherwise.  
  
Usakura & Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo: Billowing is in the Snape genes, yes! And don't we love it!!!  
  
risi: Thanks! Can't answer your questions, though!  
  
Someone & Adenara Yatman & Mela & Anonymous & Yami'sLittleGirl: Thanks a lot! Glad you liked it!  
  
texasjeanette: Well, a Severitus challenge fic will have to be predictable so far as the plot is concerned – if you want to keep it slightly plausible ... which I am trying to do. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
barbarataku: Yes, that's how I see him too ... *single tear trickling down my cheek*  
  
idril.tinuviel: Thank you! Yes, once he's calmed down a bit, I think he will.  
  
aihjah: I am really glad to hear it! You seem to have caught the essence of this story. *chuckles* 


	12. Wavering

Chapter twelve  
  
Wavering  
  
Shortly before Christmas, Harry was looking for a book on sleeping draughts in the library. Since his conversation with Snape and Dumbledore he had been on an emotional roller coaster, sometimes accepting the fact that his most hated teacher was also his father, sometimes denying it fervently to himself. He tried to avoid thinking about it, pretending that nothing had happened, but this turned out to be more difficult than he had expected, even though he did not have to talk about it with anyone.  
Harry was almost surprised that Dumbledore had not tried to discuss the matter further with him when he thought that he had calmed down, but he had been grateful for it. Harry had, however, received a rather strange note from Dumbledore a few days after their last conversation. The note had burst into flames only seconds after Harry had read it, like a Howler, only it didn't say the message out loud. It had said: "Do not tell anyone about your father, as it could jeopardise the work of the Order." It was from Dumbledore – it had to be, even though Harry suspected that Lupin knew all about this, too.  
However, Lupin hadn't mentioned anything about it; Harry suspected that he might have been warned not to by Dumbledore. Snape seemed to have accepted Harry's wish that they pretend that nothing had changed. During his first Potions class after that day, Harry had noticed that Snape treated him as he had done the whole term, except that he refrained from staring at him, rather avoiding his eyes. He had no idea what Snape thought about it all.  
Now, as he sat researching his essay on sleeping draughts, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had come to enjoy Potions very much. Without Snape breathing down his neck all the time, Potions was certainly more interesting than, for example, Herbology.  
Just then, Neville and Luna came walking into the library. Harry had noticed that they spent quite a lot of time together these days.  
'Hello Harry!' said Neville brightly. 'Working on your Potions essay?'  
Harry nodded, pointing at the books on the table in front of him. Neville and Luna sat down.  
'I've already finished mine,' Neville said. 'Luna helped me. She's really good at Potions, you know.'  
'Well, it is a rather interesting subject,' said Luna, staring out of the window dreamily. 'And it's useful, too. My mother used to experiment a lot in Potions as well as spells ...'  
'Yes, well, it's not too bad when you're not being harassed by Snape all the time,' Neville said thoughtfully. 'He's been surprisingly easy on people this term.'  
Harry gave Neville a quick glance, then looked at his book again. 'Yeah, I suppose,' he said warily.  
Luna turned to Harry, looking at him unblinkingly with her protuberant eyes. 'He's your father, isn't he?' she said earnestly. Harry stared at her, shocked at having this question – or statement – thrown at him out of the blue. Neville, on the other hand, didn't seem all that surprised; he merely looked curiously at Harry.  
'Why would you think that?' Harry asked, realising that, for some reason, he didn't mind talking to Luna and Neville about this, not the way he would have with Ron and Hermione.  
'Oh, mostly the way you've changed this term... But there was something even before that, something about you that reminded me of him...'  
'Oh, well... Yes, he is my father.' This was the first time Harry had said it out loud to someone who wasn't involved, and perhaps the first time he'd really admitted it, even to himself. He was surprised at how easy it had been to say the words, and how naturally Neville and Luna seemed to accept the fact. It was almost a relief to him, not having to pretend any more.  
'It must be interesting to have a father like him,' Luna said thoughtfully, 'he knows so much about potions... and I'm sure he's a good wizard in general.'  
'Well, I don't know,' Harry said doubtfully, 'I suppose he is good at making potions...' And he was an excellent Occlumens, Harry thought to himself, wondering what else Snape was good at. There had to be so many things he didn't know about Snape ...  
'It must be nice to have a parent after all these years of being alone,' said Neville quietly.  
Harry nodded; he had never thought of it this way before, but of course, Neville was right; he did have a parent now – a father. He thought of Neville's parents who were still in St Mungo's, unable even to recognise their son. With a jolt, he realised that Neville would probably be happy to have a father he could talk to, even if it was Snape. And Luna, too, knew what it meant to lose a parent.  
For a brief moment, Harry almost regretted having rejected Snape so harshly back then in Dumbledore's office, telling him that they should both pretend that they weren't father and son. Should he have acted differently? But he had been so angry, and rightfully so, at least to a certain extent. And Snape hadn't made any objections; he had seemed as satisfied with this as Harry himself had been at the time.  
Now, however, Harry feelings had changed. He wasn't angry anymore, at least not much. He didn't exactly want Snape for a father, but he had to admit that Neville and Luna were right – he did have a parent now, and that had to be an asset, not a burden. How come he hadn't realised that earlier? It was obvious, it was good to have someone ... someone who was family.  
But what if Snape didn't want him for a son anymore? Of course Harry couldn't be sure that Snape had ever wanted him in the first place, but he might be even less inclined to accept him now than he had been before. He had never liked him, and Harry's reaction in Dumbledore's office might have put him off fatherhood completely.  
On the other hand, Harry had been right back then: he had never had a father, and he didn't need one now. It wasn't likely that he would ever get on well with Snape anyway – not really. Not after everything he had done. It might be useful to have a parent, but Snape ... No, he'd never get on with him, and it was no use trying.  
'Hello, Harry!' Hermione's voice suddenly came from behind him.  
'Oh, er ... Hi!' Harry said, hoping she and Ron, who was standing next to her, hadn't overheard anything. Although he felt a certain amount of relief at having told Luna and Neville the truth, he really didn't want Ron and Hermione to know anything. And besides, he wasn't supposed to tell anyone.  
'Oh, are you working on that essay for Professor Snape – er – I mean, the Potions essay?' Hermione said rather awkwardly.  
'Yes,' said Harry, slightly nervous that Neville and Luna would tell Ron and Hermione everything. They both remained silent, however, and Hermione looked uncomfortable, as though she couldn't decide what to say to Harry. Ron looked from Harry to Hermione, puzzled at the tension there seemed to be between them. But then he noticed Lavender Brown, sitting on her own at a table nearby.  
'Er ... I have to talk to Lavender about our History of Magic Project,' he said hurriedly, 'I'll see you later at Quidditch practise, Harry.' He went over to Lavender, greeting her cheerfully, then sitting down at her table. NEWT-level History of Magic must be very demanding, Harry thought, as Ron seemed to spend all his time with Lavender Brown, the only other Gryffindor who was taking the subject. He looked at Hermione, wondering how she was taking Ron's new friendship with Lavender. But Hermione wasn't paying any attention to Ron; she was looking at Harry, with a concerned expression on her face, as she did so often these days.  
Harry knew that, sooner or later, he would have to tell her about Snape too, and Ron of course, no matter what Dumbledore said. But not right now, he decided. They were going to spend Christmas together again, like last year, and he didn't want to tell them until afterwards. Right now, it was enough that Neville and Luna knew, and he could talk to them about it if he wanted to. He realised how good it felt to have shared this with someone, but he had a feeling that sharing it with Ron and Hermione wouldn't be as easy as this. 


	13. Christmas

Changes  
  
Chapter thirteen  
  
Christmas  
  
A few days before Christmas Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place once again. The rest of the Weasley family, except for Percy, who was still estranged from them, were already there, as were Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Most of the members of the Order were going to have a meeting on Christmas Eve, so they had decided that they would all celebrate Christmas there together.  
Harry had mixed feelings about going to Grimmauld Place; he was looking forward to getting away from Hogwarts for a while, spending Christmas with his best friends, but at the same time, Grimmauld Place brought back the nightmares he had had about Sirius. He wondered what it was going to be like to be in Sirius's house again, without him there. As it turned out, however, Harry did not have much time to brood about Sirius when he got there, because the reactions he'd got from people at the start of term were repeated with stunning accuracy as soon as he arrived.  
'Harry, dear, you look pale and thin!' Mrs Weasley exclaimed as she gave him an enormous hug. 'Don't you eat enough at Hogwarts? You have to go out sometimes too, you know. It's not good to spend all your time inside, studying...'  
'Hey, Harry!' said Fred when Mrs Weasley was out of earshot, 'You haven't gone overboard on the skiving snackboxes, have you?'  
'You're not supposed to use them every day, you know,' George added.  
The commotion died down eventually, and everyone seemed to get used to Harry's altered looks once again. Was this going to keep happening now, Harry wondered, or would he stop changing soon? He shuddered at the thought of becoming even more like Snape...  
When they had all settled in, Harry realised that he didn't have a clue what was going on with the Order these days, except that Moody was away on some sort of secret mission in Bulgaria (or maybe somewhere else, Harry couldn't remember) and of course that Hagrid was away in the mountains again, with his half-brother Grawp, trying to negotiate with the Giants. Would he bring any more of them with him to Britain? Harry asked himself with a shudder.  
As far as the rest of the Order was concerned, Harry had been kept in the dark, as usual. With everything that had been going on this term, he had been too preoccupied to care much about this. Also, having found out the contents of the Prophecy, he had been less interested in knowing what the Order was up to than he had been before. It didn't really matter what they did, since he would have to confront Voldemort in the end no matter what.  
He didn't know what Voldemort was up to either, since the members of the Order hadn't told him, and he hadn't even bothered to ask. His dreams about Voldemort had ceased during the summer, and although his scar sometimes prickled unpleasantly, it rarely hurt the way it had done the year before. Harry didn't know whether the Order had something to do with this, perhaps blocking Voldemort's thoughts in some way, or whether it was Voldemort's own doing. Dumbledore had never suggested that he continue doing Occlumency, at any rate.  
There wasn't a whole lot to do at Grimmauld Place these days. They had managed to clean the place up rather well last year, and Buckbeak was no longer there; Hagrid had taken care of him again, much to his own joy, as well as Buckbeak's. Kreacher wasn't there either; he had died of old age soon after Sirius's death. Harry never said so in front of Hermione, but he felt it was a relief to be rid of the old elf. He wouldn't have been able to take it if Kreacher had gone on complaining about Sirius now that he was dead.  
With no doxys or boggarts left to fight, Harry and his friends were able to relax during the days leading up to Christmas. Ron and Harry played wizard's chess almost every night, and strangely enough, Harry rather enjoyed this, although he lost every single time, mainly because his chess pieces still didn't trust him, and kept giving him conflicting advice. Sometimes they even tried to refuse obeying his orders and he had to spend a lot of time convincing them that they should go wherever he wanted them to go. Playing chess seemed to keep his mind off Sirius, though, as well as the fact that Snape was his father.  
After lunch on Christmas Eve, the other members of the Order arrived at Grimmauld Place, including Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin and Snape. Although Harry had seen Snape at Grimmauld Place before, it felt strange to meet him away from school now that he knew he was his father. He didn't see much of him, however, since the meeting began straight away in the kitchen. Harry almost forgot that Snape was there, as he spent the afternoon trying out some of Fred and George's new products together with Hermione, Ginny and Ron.  
So it was with a jolt of uneasiness Harry noticed that Snape, along with most of the other members of the Order, had remained there after the meeting, apparently intending to have dinner with them. On Christmas Eve of all days, he was going to have to put up with him... As if he didn't feel awkward enough anyway, with everyone still eyeing him curiously whenever they thought he wasn't looking...  
'Ah, Harry, come and sit here between me and Professor Snape!' Professor Dumbledore said as they entered the kitchen, smiling brightly, moving aside so as to make place for Harry. So Dumbledore was still hoping that he would give Snape a chance ... Well, he was hoping in vain! Harry noticed that Snape was as stony-faced as ever, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought about Dumbledore's suggestion. Harry went and sat down there all the same, looking longingly at Ron and Hermione, who had sat down next to the seat into which Dumbledore was now moving. He saw that Lupin was looking at Dumbledore, questioningly, too, then looking away, leaning over to say something to Mrs Weasley.  
Harry felt uncomfortable during the meal, in spite of – or perhaps rather because of – Dumbledore's attempts to initiate some conversation between Snape and himself. At one point he noticed that Mrs Weasley was looking from him to Snape, then back again, and he had a distinct feeling that she had guessed the state of things. Harry hardly ate anything, despite the fact that he was rather hungry and Mrs Weasley tried to make him take second and third helpings.  
After dinner the members of the Order sat together talking in the drawing room, while Ginny and Hermione stood together looking at the Black family tapestry, discussing who was who. Harry didn't want to look at it, so he suggested to Ron that they should play a game of Wizard's Chess, which he happily agreed to. Harry didn't do well, but neither had he expected to, and it didn't take long until he lost. As they started their second game, the Order had scattered, everybody standing in twos or threes, talking. After a while, Harry was slightly startled to notice Snape looking at him from across the room, and promptly lost his second Castle to Ron's Knight, losing the game shortly afterwards. He felt disconcerted to see Snape glancing at him repeatedly as he was losing so spectacularly. It would be just like Snape, Harry thought, to come over and make some snide comment about Harry being too stupid to play a simple game of Chess, but Snape stayed where he was, looking at them thoughtfully.  
After some time, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin and Snape got ready to return to Hogwarts. Only the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Tonks were to stay at Grimmauld Place, as the Order was to have another meeting on Boxing Day. Harry was relieved to see the others go; now he would be able to relax again, with Snape gone. They all went to bed early, looking forward to the next day.  
There was a surprisingly large heap of Christmas presents at the foot of Harry's bed the next morning. Apart from the usual presents from his friends and Mrs Weasley, there were also gifts from Tonks, Kingsley and Mundungus Fletcher, not to mention a large assortment of products from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It took quite some time to open everything. When Harry thought he was already done, he noticed that there was another present beneath the large pile of wrapping paper.  
Harry looked at the last unopened parcel, curiously. It was wrapped in glossy black paper, which had some sort of family crest on it, also in black, but not glossy; he couldn't see exactly what it looked like. Who was this from? Harry tore it open, revealing the most beautiful set of Wizard's Chess he had ever seen. The board was made of black marble and so were the pieces, which were also decorated with what looked like emeralds, rubies and sapphires. They looked curiously at him from inside the box, some of them whispering excitedly to each other. There was a small card with the gift; Harry opened it eagerly and read it.  
  
_Dear Harry,  
  
This chess set used to belong to your Great-great-grandfather. I think these pieces will obey you better than the ones you are using at present. I hope you will like this gift, but you are, of course, under no obligation to accept it._  
  
Harry felt a twinge of excitement. This had belonged to his father's family! But wait. Snape was his father – could this possibly be from him? No, it couldn't be, he would never address him as 'Dear Harry'... Or would he? Was this Snape's handwriting? He wasn't sure... But yes, he recognised that large, spiky black 'D'; he had seen it on countless occasions on essays he'd written for Snape.  
'Wow!' said Ron, awe-struck, 'They're really old! I bet the pieces are well trained, too. These are real gemstones, look! Who on Earth gave you this?'  
'My Great-great-grandfather,' Harry said thoughtfully. 'I mean, it used to be his...'  
'Oh, so you got it from Dumbledore again? I wonder what else he's got that used to be in your family, maybe he's got loads of things...'  
  
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, wondering what he had been like, his Great-great-grandfather. And – had Snape been using this? A lot? And if so, would the pieces really trust him? He looked at the set, which was, indeed, beautiful. Much to his own surprise, he felt touched by this gift more than by anything anyone had said to him about Snape. The fact that Snape had seen – and noticed – how he was doing at chess, and how much trouble he had with the pieces, made Harry realise that he wasn't as indifferent as he seemed to be. He didn't feel as badly as before about having to spend Boxing Day with him, although it would still be awkward. 


	14. The Chess Set

Author's Note:  
  
First let me thank you all for the reviews!  
  
_On Boxing Day_: In Britain, Boxing Day is celebrated on the first weekday after Christmas, and one usually visits friends and relatives on that day, or else people relax after Christmas Day, taking it easy and playing games. As far as I know, the name comes from the fact that so called "charity boxes" in church used to be opened on that day, and the money given to the poor.  
Boxing Day often coincides with St Stephen's Day, which is the day after Christmas Day.  
  
_On the use of OK_: This word was first recorded in America in 1839, and the original form was _OK_ (short for "oll korrect"), not _okay_. That is still the form given in dictionaries such as OED and the American Heritage Dictionary. It is, however, also OK to write "okay". Both forms of the word are, of course, colloquial, but since the passage where I used it in Chapter One described Harry's thoughts, I felt that it was still suitable.  
  
_On Snape's greasy hair_: I have not found any passage in JK Rowling's books where the actual reason for the greasiness is stated. It is my personal opinion that he does not wash his hair often enough. In this fic, however, I have chosen to make the greasy hair hereditary.  
  
**Chapter 13  
  
The Chess Set  
**  
Christmas Day went by without any excitement. After a busy morning, trying out and showing each other their new Christmas gifts, Ron suggested that they play a game with Harry's new Chess set. Harry, however, answered evasively that he rather wanted to do something together with the others, realising, with a jolt, that he didn't want to break in the set without Snape being there. He found that he wouldn't even have minded if Snape had been there with them now, on Christmas Day, although he had felt uncomfortable only yesterday at the thought of spending Christmas Eve with him. He had no desire to talk to Snape, at least not about anything personal, but he didn't mind being in his company anymore.  
  
On Boxing Day the Order gathered again. For the first time ever, Harry was slightly pleased at seeing his Potions Master, but he quickly suppressed that feeling, almost ashamed of himself. All of the members had arrived now, and were standing scattered in the drawing room, waiting for the meeting to begin. Harry tried to look Snape's way inconspicuously, but Snape seemed not to notice him at all.  
'So, Harry,' Kingsley Shacklebolt said brightly, walking over to him, 'Get anything good for Christmas?'  
'Yeah, quite a lot – thanks for the book by the way, I read the first chapter, it's great!' Shacklebolt had given Harry a book about dark wizards through the ages, which – among others – mentioned the wizard Grindelwald, who had been defeated by none other than Albus Dumbledore (a fact which was mentioned on the Chocolate frog cards, Harry remembered).  
'I'm glad you liked it. What else did you get?'  
'I got some great stuff from Fred and George's store, this jumper (he looked down at the new Weasley jumper he was wearing), loads of sweets, and a new Chess set...' He talked a little louder, to make sure Snape would hear him and understand that he'd accepted his gift; he would have no opportunity to thank him straight out. And sure enough, Snape, who was talking to Dumbledore in a low voice, glanced his way quickly at the mention of it. Harry thought he saw Dumbledore smile, but he couldn't be sure since his face was turned away almost completely.  
  
The meeting began, and Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron went to the kitchen to tidy up and start to prepare tea. Mrs Weasley had done all that could be done beforehand, so they only had to put a finishing touch to it.  
'I can't believe we'll have to endure another meal with that old git Snape,' Ron exclaimed as he put a large stack of turkey-and-stuffing- sandwiches on the table.  
'I know!' said Ginny, who was cautiously approaching the table with an enormous Christmas cake. 'He certainly spends a lot of time here these days. He never used to take meals here before.'  
'Yeah, those were the days!' Ron said reminiscently. 'He always ruins the atmosphere at the table just by being there, right Harry?'  
Harry frowned, wanting to tell Ron to shut up, but at the same time not wanting to have to explain his changed feelings towards Snape.  
'Oh, give it a rest, Ron!' Hermione said, eyeing Harry anxiously. 'Snape's not so bad these days. You don't know anything about it, you don't take Potions anymore.'  
Ron's face went pink, and he stalked out of the kitchen angrily.  
'_I_ see no great difference,' Ginny said, 'and I do take Potions ... No, I think he's just as nasty as ever.'  
Neither Harry nor Hermione answered her. Hermione tried to catch Harry's eye, but to no avail. Only a few months ago, Harry would have been more than happy to join Ron and Ginny in their Snape-bashing, but now he felt differently. He was still angry with Snape for what he had done seventeen years ago, and for the way he had treated Harry before he found out he was his son, but since yesterday he didn't only have negative feelings towards him. And he certainly didn't like it if other people complained about him.  
  
Tea went by without any bigger incidents, although Ron was still sulking. He sat as far away from Hermione as he could, without sitting too close to Snape. Dumbledore did not make Harry sit next to Snape, but Harry felt he wouldn't have minded as much this time.  
After the meal they all went to the drawing room again. Ron sat down at a table in a corner, took out a quill and a piece of rather nice- looking parchment and started writing something. Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes, and went over to him, intending to make peace.  
'Who are you writing to, Ron?'  
'You have Vicky – _I_ can have a pen pal too if I want, can't I?' Ron retorted sourly. 'You're not the only one who's got things to write, you know!'  
Hermione looked slightly taken aback. 'Well, of course you can,' she said. 'I was only asking.'  
'If you must know, I'm writing to Lavender about our History of Magic Project,' Ron said smugly.  
Hermione tried to hide a smile and went off to join Ginny, Fred and George in a game of Exploding Snap instead.  
Just then, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Mr Weasley entered the room. They had remained in the kitchen after the meal to discuss something. Harry turned to Ron, who had just finished his letter and was reading it through carefully.  
'Er ... Do you want to break in my new Chess set now? he asked loudly.  
Ron agreed, and Harry went upstairs to get the set. As he was about to go downstairs again, he caught sight of the empty frame that belonged to Phineas Nigellus, wondering vaguely what he was up to right now. He seemed to be spending almost all of his time in his other painting, at Hogwarts.  
  
The game went a lot better than usual. The pieces obeyed Harry without questioning his moves, and Harry found that he wasn't such a bad player after all. Therefore, Harry was all the more surprised when his King suddenly spoke to him.  
'I would think that move over twice if I were you, Harry,' he said quietly. Harry stared confusedly at the board. How did the King know his name? Snape must have told him! Now, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He guessed that these pieces would never give him bad advice, but still ...  
'I suggest you follow his advice,' he heard a familiar, cold voice next to him. 'Or you'll lose your Queen, Potter ... that is to say,' Snape hesitated, giving Ron a quick glance, 'er ... yes, Potter.' He walked away, hurriedly. A few moves later, Harry won the game, the first time ever he'd won against Ron.  
As he was putting the pieces back in their box (Ron had gone off to send Lavender the letter he had written), Harry heard Lupin and McGonagall talking at the other side of the room.  
'That's odd, Remus, that looks like Severus's chess set ... I've seen it numerous times; he plays regularly with Albus, you know.'  
'Does he indeed, Minerva?'  
'But why did Severus give it to Potter? He doesn't even like the boy.' Lupin said nothing, and when Harry looked at them, he could see that McGonagall had a puzzled look on her face.  
  
That night, just as they were about to go to sleep, Ron suddenly said:  
'Snape was behaving very oddly today, don't you think?'  
'Er ... I suppose,' Harry said cautiously.  
'Why would he come over and talk to you while we were playing Chess?' Ron went on. 'He hates you, and now he was even giving you advice. You'd never have won if it wasn't for him, you know.'  
'Well, maybe Hermione's right,' Harry said. 'Maybe he has changed.'  
'That's not likely, is it?' Ron turned around, and went to sleep almost immediately. Harry didn't sleep, however. He was very happy about his new Chess set, but at the same time he wondered what was going to happen next. More and more people were beginning to suspect something – were they going to find out that he was Snape's son? And if so, would that put himself or Snape in danger?  
  
And what, Harry wondered, did the gift of the Chess set really mean? 


	15. Relations Revealed

**Chapter 15  
  
Relations Revealed  
**  
As Harry woke up the next morning, Ron had already gone downstairs and Harry was alone in the room. He did not get up straight away; the bed was warm and cosy and he felt relaxed for the first time in ages. Suddenly, a voice came from Phineas Nigellus's empty frame on the wall.  
'Rise and shine, sleepy-head!'  
Harry looked up at the painting, just as Phineas Nigellus himself strolled into view.  
'Hello,' Harry said. 'I haven't seen you here for a long time.'  
'Oh, I prefer to spend my time in Dumbledore's office these days,' Phineas said casually, examining his gloves. 'This place is rather dull, whereas all sorts of exciting things are revealed in the Headmaster's office. I can't risk to miss anything, can I?'  
Harry snorted. 'So, what brings you here today?'  
'Why, a little bird whispered in my ear that a most interesting transaction had taken place here at Grimmauld Place on Christmas Day,' Phineas said smiling pointedly at Harry.  
'What are you talking about?' Harry said confusedly.  
Phineas shifted his gaze slightly, and when Harry followed it, he realised that he was looking at his chess set. So that was what he had meant. Of course, Phineas had to know all about Snape being his father, and he had probably seen the set on countless occasions, just like Professor McGonagall.  
'That's rather a handsome chess set you have there,' Phineas said, still smiling pointedly.  
'Thanks!' Harry said, grinning at him. 'It used to belong to my great-great-grandfather.'  
'I know,' Phineas said. 'His name is inscribed on the bottom of every piece.'  
Harry frowned. He hadn't noticed any inscriptions yesterday. He picked up one of the knights and turned it over. And there it was, inscribed in gold letters: 'Phineas Nigellus'. Harry stared at it for a while, and then turned to look at Phineas again, who was now leaning against the frame of his picture, looking smug.  
'You're my great-great-grandfather?' he whispered incredulously.  
'Yes. My chess set has been passed down to the oldest child for generations. You should feel quite honoured to have it.'  
'But ... but, you're Sirius's great-great-grandfather. Does this mean that I'm related to him too?' Harry said.  
'Didn't Sirius tell you that most of the pureblood families are related to each other?' Phineas asked, sounding bored.  
'Yes, but ...' Harry thought for a moment. 'Why isn't my ... I mean Sn ... Er, why isn't Professor Snape on the Black family tapestry?'  
Phineas was still looking bored, and before he got a chance to answer, Ron entered the room.  
'What are you doing, Harry?' he said. 'It's time for breakfast.'  
'I'll be right down,' Harry said, jumping out of bed. 'You go ahead.'  
As soon as Ron was out of earshot again, Harry turned back to the painting on the wall, but Phineas Nigellus was no longer there. While he was getting dressed, Harry kept looking at his chess set, thoughtfully.  
The others had already started breakfast when he got down to the kitchen. It was only the Weasley family, Hermione and him today, as the other Order members had returned to their jobs or gone on missions for the Order. They were all munching away happily and chatting to each other.  
'That was a lovely set of Chess you got for Christmas, Harry,' Mrs Weasley said, serving him some scrambled eggs. It was your great-great- grandfather's, Ron tells me?' Harry could tell that Hermione, who sat at the other end of the table, was listening intensely, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  
'Yes, that's right,' he said warily.  
'That must have been on the Potter side then?' She asked the question casually, but Harry was sure that she had put two and two together and now wanted to find out whether she was right. She knew perfectly well it hadn't been on the Potter side ...  
'No,' he said, 'Not on the Potter side.' This was it, he realised; they had guessed already, some of them, and he wouldn't be able to hide it any longer. There was no reason to hide it either, only the fact that they would be really shocked and it would be embarrassing ... And knowing Ron and the way he'd reacted when he found out about Lupin and Hagrid ... It wouldn't be easy, but then of course, Snape wasn't a werewolf or a giant, so maybe Ron wouldn't take it so hard.  
'Oh ... But it couldn't have been on Lily's side, could it?'  
Harry just looked at her, at a loss for words.  
'It's from your father, isn't it, Harry?' Hermione asked gently. Harry nodded, unable to speak. 'Is it ... who I think it is?' Harry nodded again.  
'What?' Ron broke in; he hadn't been listening at first, but then he had noticed the tension in the atmosphere. 'What do you mean, Harry's father? You mean Dumbledore gave it to him, like the invisibility cloak?'  
'Oh Ron,' said Hermione exasperatedly, 'Isn't it obvious? Can't you see who Harry looks like?' At this, Ron stared at him, a bemused look on his face. 'It's Professor Snape, Ron – isn't it, Harry?'  
'Yes,' Harry said quietly. Now the whole Weasley family was staring at him.  
'But ... but ... how is that possible?' Bill said incredulously. The other Weasleys seemed to be at a loss for words. Harry didn't know what to answer. He couldn't very well say that it involved a late night, a bottle of Polyjuice Potion and a secret mission to Godric's Hollow, could he? He looked helplessly at Hermione.  
'I'm sure that's all very complicated,' she said hesitantly.  
Mr Weasley cleared his throat. 'Does Professor Dumbledore know about this?'  
Harry nodded, looking down at his plate of scrambled eggs, in order to avoid the stares.  
Ginny put her hand on his arm. 'Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!'  
Harry quickly pulled his arm away. He didn't want to be pitied.  
'Ginevra Weasley!' Mrs Weasley snapped. 'There's nothing to be sorry about. Professor Snape does important and dangerous work for the Order. You can be proud that you're his son, Harry.' She looked encouragingly at him, but Harry noticed that Ginny, Ron and the twins were now avoiding his gaze. This was exactly the reaction he had feared. Hermione gave Ron and Ginny a reproving look before turning to Harry again:  
'I think Mrs Weasley's right, Harry,' she said pointedly. 'And Professor Snape obviously thinks a lot of you too, since he gave you that family heirloom.'  
'What's wrong with you people?' Ron suddenly shouted, looking from his mother to Hermione and Harry. 'This is Snape we're talking about! SNAPE! If _I_ found out he was my father I think I'd perform an _Avada Kedavra_ on myself!'  
Mrs Weasley looked fit to burst with anger, but before she could speak Harry got up from his seat so fast that he knocked over his chair.  
'So,' he said with forced calm, looking furiously at Ron. 'You think it's better to have no father at all, do you? You'd rather I had no family but the Dursleys? You have no idea what it's like, growing up without your parents, with no brothers or sisters, without ANYONE who cares about you! Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ron, because I have no intention of killing myself.' He walked to the door. 'And for future reference: it's _Professor_ Snape to you, Ron,' he said silkily, and then swept out of the kitchen, leaving the Weasleys and Hermione to stare after him in shock.  
  
**Author's Note**: I hope all the Ron lovers out there aren't upset with me now. I have nothing against Ron, but I really think this is how he would react to news like this. Incidentally, Harry reacted in almost the same way when he first found out. 


	16. Old Enemies

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since I updated this fic. I've been in China for three weeks (as those of you who read After the Defeat already know) and I had a great time. Unfortunately, when I got back I had to spend a few days in hospital with a bout of pneumonia, so this chapter got delayed even further. So, once again, sorry about that!  
  
On Ginny's name: On her official website J.K. Rowling herself states that Ginny's full name is 'Ginevra, not Virginia.' It's a great site with a lot of interesting information, so if you haven't paid it a visit yet you really should.  
  
Chapter 16  
  
**Old Enemies  
**  
The remainder of his stay at Grimmauld Place was rather awkward for Harry. He felt that the Weasleys were walking on eggshells around him, afraid that they would upset him again. Perhaps they had been warned by Mrs Weasley that she would tell them a thing or two if their behaviour around Harry wasn't impeccable. Whatever the reason was, Ginny, Ron and the twins seemed to be trying to avoid him as much as possible, whereas Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie adopted an overly cheerful attitude whenever Harry was in the room.  
Ron sulked for a few days after the scene in the kitchen, refusing to apologise to Harry no matter how much Hermione nagged him to do it. When he finally did apologise Harry felt that it was too little too late, completely forgetting that Ron's reaction wasn't so different from what his own had been upon initially finding out that Snape was his father. He accepted the apology, however, but things still weren't as usual between the two of them. The only person Harry felt he could really talk to was Hermione.  
Therefore it was a relief to him when the term began and they returned to Hogwarts. Now that most of the people who were important to him knew that Snape was his father it felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Harry did better than ever before in his lessons, determined not to let his problems during the previous term affect his chances to achieve good NEWT results next year. He also noticed that the fact that he didn't spend as much time with Ron as usual had a good influence on his schoolwork.  
Harry didn't see much of Snape these days. He never saw him in the corridors between or after lessons, and he noticed that he was often absent from the high table at meals. He had never yet missed one of their classes however, even though he spent them correcting essays rather than sweeping about the room, criticising the students.  
Sometimes Harry felt that perhaps he should talk to Snape. He had, after all, given him the chess set even though Harry had said he wanted nothing to do with him. But as the term went on there was never an opportunity for him to do so during class, and for some reason he felt he would need an excuse to go and look up Snape in his office.  
  
Their first Hogsmeade outing that term was on a cold and snowy day in early February. Harry, Neville, Luna and Hermione went to the Three Broomsticks for a hot butterbeer. Ron was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn't conveyed his plans for the day to them; Harry suspected that he was still working on his History of Magic-project. Ginny had decided to stay in Gryffindor Tower to catch up on some homework. As this was their OWL year, Ginny and Luna were very busy most of the time, but Harry had noticed that Ginny was more reluctant than Luna to spend time with him, Hermione and Neville these days. She seemed to have just as hard a time as Ron to come to terms with the fact that Harry was Snape's son.  
Harry was very tired that night as they got home, and went to bed early. Ron hadn't showed up yet, and Harry wondered whether this was because they still weren't on the best of terms. He decided that he didn't really care all that much.  
He lay down and closed his eyes. Suddenly, Harry realised that he was angry – very angry. But why? He'd had a great day in Hogsmeade, and there wasn't anything else disturbing him, was there? He tried to think. Yes, there was something. It was that fool Pettigrew – he could never get anything right. With a gasp, Harry sat up, and realised that he was no longer in his dormitory. He was in a cold, dark room, sitting on a narrow bed. He couldn't see anything at first, but slowly his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. The walls of the room were completely bare, except for a huge mirror which was hanging opposite the bed. Harry didn't want to look in it. He knew that, for some reason, it would be dangerous to do so. But his body seemed to be acting on its own, getting up from the bed and walking over to the mirror. Even before he stepped in front of it, Harry knew that he wouldn't be seeing his own face in the mirror. He wouldn't be seeing Snape's either, like he had in his other dreams. He'd be seeing Voldemort's. And as soon as Harry looked into Voldemort's red, snakelike eyes reflected in the mirror, he knew that Voldemort realised that he was there ...  
'Harry! Harry!'  
Someone slapped his face very hard, and Harry was back in the dormitory again. His scar was throbbing with pain. He opened his eyes and looked up at Ron, who was leaning over him, his eyes wide with fear.  
'What happened?' Ron whispered.  
Harry sat up and saw that Neville, Dean and Seamus were standing behind Ron, looking anxiously at him.  
'Voldemort,' Harry said simply, ignoring the shudder that went through the other four at the mention of the name. He told them exactly what had happened.  
'But ...' Ron looked nervous. 'But you haven't had any dreams about You Know Who since last summer, have you?'  
'No,' said Harry. 'So why do you think it's happening now?' 'I have no idea,' Harry said shortly, trying to ignore the fact that that was exactly what he was asking himself. 'I really think you should talk to Dumbledore about this, Harry,' Ron said slowly, looking as if he expected Harry to blow up over this. 'Yeah ... I guess I'd better.' Harry looked up at Ron's concerned face, and tried to smile reassuringly. Ron smiled back somewhat hesitantly. For the time being, at least, they were friends again, almost like they had used to be.  
  
Harry woke up late the next morning. When he got down to the Great Hall he immediately realised that Ron had already told Hermione about his dream. He could see it from the looks they gave him as he approached the Gryffindor table.  
'Harry, this is really serious!' Hermione exclaimed as soon as he sat down. 'You have to talk to Dumbledore as soon as possible.'  
'Yeah, you really should, mate,' said Ron.  
Harry sighed. 'I will, I will.'  
'Do you promise?' Hermione said, eyeing him anxiously.  
'We'll see,' Harry muttered.  
'Harry!' Hermione said imploringly.  
'Well, I might talk to McGonagall instead!' Harry said irritably. 'You can't possibly mind that, can you?'  
'Oh, all right!' Hermione sighed. 'Now hurry up and eat, or we'll be late for Potions.'  
Harry concentrated particularly hard on his potion that lesson. He had been more shaken up by the dream than he cared to admit, and he was determined not to let it affect his work. Snape was as busy as always these days, and he barely looked up from the essays he was correcting. When they had all handed in their samples he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.  
'Come on, Harry,' Hermione said bossily. 'You can talk to Dumbledore or McGonagall now.'  
But Harry had just had an idea. 'Er ... No, you go ahead, Hermione,' he said. 'I want to discuss something with Professor Snape.'  
Hermione looked as though she was about to argue her point, but then thought better of it, looking from Harry to Snape, and then back again.  
'Oh ...' she said slowly. 'I'll see you later, then.' She smiled approvingly at Harry and then left the classroom, closing the heavy door behind her.  
Harry took a deep breath, and then approached Snape's desk.  
'Professor Snape?' he said tentatively.  
Snape looked up from his papers, seemingly annoyed that someone had the nerve to disturb him. When he saw that he and Harry were alone in the room, however, he quickly composed himself, and said: 'Yes, Potter ... er ... I mean, what can I do for you?'  
'I just wanted to ask you something,' Harry said.  
'I see.' Snape paused. 'Is this about Potions or ... something else?'  
'Something else,' Harry said nervously.  
'In that case, why don't we step into my office?' Snape got up and led the way into the adjoining room. Harry swallowed. He had not been here since Snape had thrown him out after he had violated his Pensieve. The place still looked exactly as it had done then.  
'Sit down,' Snape said in an unusually polite tone of voice.  
Harry sat down opposite Snape.  
'Now, what did you want to talk to me about? '  
Harry decided to get straight to the point.  
'It's about V– ... I mean, You Know Who,' he said hurriedly, and then told Snape everything about the dream.  
When he was finished there was a pause, as Snape sat eyeing him thoughtfully.  
'Maybe it was just a dream,' Harry suggested hopefully.  
'I don't think so,' said Snape.  
'It's just ... I haven't had any dreams or visions about him since last summer ...'  
'I know.' Snape was looking slightly absent-minded. 'Professor Dumbledore has taken certain precautions to keep the Dark Lord from penetrating your mind again. There is a ... kind of shield around Hogwarts, which is guarded at all times by a member of the Order. Unless I'm much mistaken, Mundungus Fletcher was on duty last night.' Snape snorted contemptuously. 'Not the first time he has left his post. I shall speak to Dumbledore about this. There's nothing for you to worry about, Harry.'  
Harry stared at him. Snape had never called him by his first name before, except on the card accompanying his Christmas gift. Snape also seemed to realise this, because he cleared his throat awkwardly, and said:  
'Do you mind if I call you Harry when we're alone?' He looked as indifferent as ever, but something made Harry suspect that he was anxious to hear his answer.  
'No, of course not ... er, Professor,' Harry said quickly.  
'Oh, you needn't call me Professor when we're alone either,' Snape said.  
'What should I call you then?'  
They both looked at each other awkwardly.  
'Well ...' Snape said. 'I suppose you may call me Severus if you want to ... or if you'd prefer something else ... it's entirely up to you, Harry.'  
'Er ... I'll think about it,' Harry said, not wanting to decide in a rush.  
There was a pause again, and Harry considered what he should say next. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to thank Snape for the chess set after all? Snape leaned forward and seemed to be about to say something, when suddenly the door burst open and Draco Malfoy strode into the room. 


	17. The Worries of Fatherhood

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews – it's nice to be back!  
  
Chapter 17  
  
**The Worries of Fatherhood  
  
**Snape sat back, quickly, his expression betraying nothing of what he felt at the moment.  
'Draco,' he said smoothly. 'What can I do for you?'  
Malfoy looked from Snape to Harry and then back again, a confident smirk on his face.  
'Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt you, sir,' he drawled. Harry snorted contemptuosly, and Snape shot him a warning glance. 'Would you like me to come back later?' Malfoy went on, his eyes wandering between them again.  
'Not at all!' Snape said coldly. 'Potter and I are finished here.' He turned to Harry and looked at him with narrowed eyes, forcing his face into that expression of loathing that he had always reserved for Harry before he found out that he was his son. 'You may go now, Potter. I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore about you.'  
Harry looked at him for a few moments, then he lowered his eyes.  
'Yes, sir,' he said quietly. He got up and left the room, without looking at either Snape or Malfoy.  
'Sit down, Draco,' Snape said.  
Malfoy sat down on the chair that Harry had just left, and pulled out a long piece of parchment from his pocket.  
'I've just had a letter from Mother,' he said.  
'Oh, really?' Snape said, trying to keep his voice as polite as possible. 'I hope she is managing all right under the cirumstances.'  
Malfoy's expression darkened.  
'Well, it is rather trying for her without my father,' he said. 'That's why she was hoping that you could do something about ... well, my Potions classes, sir.'  
'I have already discussed this with Narcissa on numerous occasions,' Snape said calmly. 'And I have explained to her that my hands are tied as far as this matter is concerned. The Headmaster won't let students who have not passed their OWLs into NEWT level classes. I might have been able to do something if you had at least managed an A in your Potions OWL, but as it is, there is nothing I can do.'  
Malfoy looked dismayed.  
'You let Potter continue his Potions classes!' he said accusingly. 'And that idiot Longbottom – and they've always been horrible at Potions. You didn't let any of the Slytherins continue!'  
'That's not quite true, Draco,' Snape said. 'Theodore Nott is still taking Potions. He, like Potter and Longbottom, received an Outstanding Potions OWL, so there is nothing I can do about that. I may say that I was very disappointed that he was the only Slytherin to achieve an O. I have come to expect more of the students from my own house.' He looked reprovingly at Malfoy.  
'Yes, Nott ...' Malfoy drawled. 'I know Nott. He tells me that you're not nearly as strict with the Gryffindors as you used to be, sir. I suppose they're your new favourites all of a sudden. And maybe they've taken a liking to you too – Potter's even imitating your hairstyle. I wonder what my father and his friends would have to say if I told them that.'  
Snape's face was inscrutable.  
'I doubt that Lucius and his friends would have much to say on your absurd accusations,' he said smoothly. 'I'm sure they have more important things on their minds, seeing as they are in Azkaban, almost all of them. Furthermore, I certainly don't have any favourites among my students – I never have. As for Potter's hairstyle, that is hardly my business. Now I suggest that you go back to your common room and do some studying. From what I hear from the other teachers your work has been far from satisfactory this term. And I am certain that Lucius will have something to say on that when he gets out of Azkaban.'  
Snape swept to the door, and opened it. Malfoy glared at him, but didn't dare say anything more. He got up and left the room without another word. Snape closed the door behind him.

Insufferable little brat! he thought furiously. Why did he have to barge in and interrupt of all times just when Harry and he were having an important discussion? If only he had locked the door. Snape stayed in his office for a few minutes, thinking about all the things he wished he could have said to Malfoy, and at the same time hoping he had not been so strict as to arouse his suspicion even further. Still seething with anger, he then made his way to Dumbledore's office to tell him about Harry's dream, as he had promised.

He knocked on the door and entered, and found that Dumbledore was immersed in a discussion with Professors McGonagall and Lupin.

'Severus!' Dumbledore said pleasantly. 'I was just informing Minerva and Remus of your latest report. I am pleased that your mission was a success.'

'Yes, yes, Headmaster,' Snape said dismissively. 'May I have a word with you?'

'By all means,' said Dumbledore. 'I take it this does not concern your mission?'

Snape hesitated.

'Would you like us to leave, Severus?' Lupin suggested.

'Oh, suit yourselves,' Snape said irritably. 'This is about Harry.'

Dumbledore gave him an apprehensive glance. 'Indeed?'

'He wanted to speak to me after class today. It seems he had another dream about the Dark Lord last night.'

'He did!' Dumbledore said sharply.

'That's odd,' McGonagall said, looking puzzled.

'Not very,' Snape said contemptuously, 'considering that Mundungus Fletcher was on duty last night.'

'No, I didn't mean that,' McGonagall said slowly. 'Why would Potter come to you? Why not me or Remus? And since when are you calling him Harry? I've never heard you call anyone by their first name, unless it was a Death Eater, or child of a Death Eater.'

Snape looked somewhat uncomfortable. Dumbledore and Lupin exchanged a meaningful look.

'What makes you think Potter isn't the child of a Death Eater?' came an amused voice from the wall. Phineas Nigellus was smiling smugly.

McGonagall turned to face him. 'I hope you're not suggesting that Lily and James Potter were Death Eaters, Phineas!' she snapped.

'I wouldn't dream of it,' said Phineas.

'Then what do you mean? That they aren't Harry's real parents? That's preposterous! Harry has Lily's eyes, and apart from that he's always looked exactly like James ...' McGonagall stopped suddenly, looking startled. She turned to Dumbledore. 'It's preposterous ... isn't it?' she said hesitantly.

Dumbledore gave her a grave look. 'I'm afraid Phineas is telling the truth, Minerva,' he said, then turning to Phineas. 'Although you should know better than to disclose to anyone what has been said in this room.'

McGonagall sat down again, looking shocked.

'Well, it does concern my own family, Dumbledore,' Phineas said airily. 'Besides, I am sure that Severus had every intention of telling Professor McGonagall sooner or later. I just thought he needed a little push.'

'Yes, thank you very much, great-grandfather!' Snape snapped. 'Now, could we please get back to the point? Namely, that my son has been subjected to grave danger yet again due to the negligence of Mundungus Fletcher.'

'But ... But how is this possible?' McGonagall said faintly.

Snape rolled his eyes. 'Must we get into this again? I'm sure Phineas will be more than happy to explain everything to you once I've left.'

Lupin got up. 'Why don't you come with me, Minerva. I'll tell you exactly what happened.' He took McGonagall's arm and led her out of the room. Dumbledore still looked very grave.

'I shall deal with Mundungus presently, Severus,' he said. 'How did Harry take this?'

'He was upset, of course,' said Snape. 'I had to tell him about the shield. But our discussion was interrupted by Draco Malfoy.'

Dumbledore sighed heavily. 'And what did Mr Malfoy want this time?'

'Oh, the usual – he complained about not being in my Potions class. But it seems some of the Slytherins suspect something, Headmaster.'

'Suspect something?' Dumbledore repeated, looking alert.

'Yes. They think I'm coddling the Gryffindors. And Malfoy suggested that Harry was imitating my ... hairstyle. I did my best to throw him off track, of course. Told him I _never_ have favourites.'

Dumbledore chuckled merrily, and Snape couldn't supress a smirk.

'Oh, dear,' said Dumbledore after a while. 'Well, I suppose you had better be more careful in class.'

'That's easier said than done, Headmaster,' Snape said testily. 'I seem to remember that you specifically told me to be kinder to Harry ... It would be difficult to simply revert to my previous behaviour now.'

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. 'Yes, of course. But it can't be helped, Severus. We must avoid suspicion at any cost. I'm sure you'll be able to think of some way to arrange this.'

'Very well,' said Snape. 'I shall give it some thought. Meanwhile, can I trust you to take Mundungus Fletcher off guard duty for good? I have enough on my mind without having to worry constantly about the Dark Lord being a threat to my son.'

Dumbledore smiled at him. 'I give you my word.'  
  
Next chapter: Detention with Dad ...


	18. Detention With Dad

Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews, and sorry about the inconsistent paragraphing in the previous chapter. Hopefully this one will be all right.  
  
Chapter 18  
  
**Detention with Dad  
**  
As Harry had suspected, he had no more dreams about Voldemort the following nights, but he still didn't sleep well. He felt guilty about the Shield that the Order had obviously been forced to construct for him, since he hadn't bothered to learn Occlumency properly last year. This had, admittedly, been Snape's fault too, seeing as he had been both hostile and reluctant to explain the correct method to Harry, but still, Harry knew that had he made an effort and practised regularly, he would in all likelihood have been able to master it.  
At the same time he couldn't forget the look Snape had given him when Malfoy had come into his office – it was that old look of hatred that Snape had always worn when Harry was around, but Harry had got used to not seeing it anymore this year. That look had made him terribly uneasy. He realised, of course, that Snape would probably have to act differently towards Harry whenever someone connected to the Death Eaters was around, but that still didn't explain that look of pure venom. Theodore Nott, whose father was also a Death Eater, was still in Harry's Potions class, and although Snape always acted very coldly towards the Gryffindors, he had changed remarkably since last year, under Nott's very nose.  
Now it seemed to be going the other way, however. In the Potions classes following their discussion about Harry's dream, Snape seemed colder and more distant than ever. Sometimes, Harry found it hard to believe that this was the same man who had asked if he could call him by his first name, and as they hadn't been alone since that day, Snape had never had the opportunity to do so. Instead, he had begun to be more strict towards the Gryffindors again, taking points much more frequently than he had during the winter.  
Although he still spent a lot of time correcting essays during class, he now always made sure he had time to sweep about the classroom, criticising everyone's potion except Nott's, and giving the Gryffindors snide remarks. So far Harry had been spared the worst of this, but it was still unnerving to see his father treat his best friends this way.  
Thus it was with unease that Harry went to his Potions class together with Hermione and Neville on a sunny morning at the beginning of March. As it turned out, however, Snape didn't seem to have time to sweep about the room, much to Harry's relief. Harry was just finishing his potion, thinking he had done quite a good job, when suddenly he noticed a shadow looming over him.  
'What's this supposed to be, Potter?' Snape said coldly.  
Harry looked up at him in confusion.  
'You were supposed to let your potion stew for seven and a half minutes,' Snape went on. 'This is far too runny; it needs at least two more minutes. Look at Nott's potion – that's how it's supposed to be.'  
Harry glanced at Nott, then looked at Snape in disbelief.  
'But sir, I haven't finished stewing it yet,' he said quietly.  
'Are you contradicting me, Potter?' Snape snarled.  
'No sir, but –'  
'Twenty points from Gryffindor!' Snape snapped. 'And detention, Potter. Tomorrow night in my office, at eight o'clock. Don't be late.' He waved his wand at Harry's cauldron. '_Evanesco_!' The potion was gone. Snape turned on his heel, and left Harry standing behind his empty cauldron, the whole class looking at him.  
Tomorrow night was Quidditch practice, and Harry knew that Katie Bell, the captain of the Gryffindor team, would be furious with him for missing it. But that didn't really bother him very much at the moment. There were a good five minutes to go before the end of class – Harry could easily have finished his potion. Why, _why_ had Snape done this to him? Harry had been under the impression that Snape was making an effort to establish some sort of friendly relationship between them, but obviously he had been wrong.  
When the lesson ended, Harry rushed out of the classroom without giving Snape another look. All evening he thought about what he would tell Snape if he ever called him Harry again, or tried to give him some other precious family heirloom, and seriously debated taking the chess set with him to detention in order to return it. In the end, however, he decided that he liked the chess set far too much to part with it, and it had after all belonged to Phineas Nigellus, who was related to Sirius.  
He did his best to avoid Neville and Hermione that night. He didn't want to discuss Snape with anyone, nor did he want to be pitied, and he certainly didn't want to admit that perhaps Ron and Ginny had been right about Snape at Christmas when they said that he hadn't changed.  
  
The following evening Harry knocked on the door to Snape's office at eight o'clock sharp. The door was opened by Snape himself, and Harry walked past him into the room without acknowledging him in any way. He noticed, however, that a fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace and the room seemed unusually cosy and comfortable.  
'Sit down,' Snape said calmly.  
Harry sat down on the chair in front of the desk and crossed his arms defiantly. Snape sat down on the other side of the desk and waved his wand at the door. Harry could hear a click as the lock snapped shut.  
'Don't want Malfoy bursting in again, do we?' Snape said casually. 'May I offer you a cup of tea?'  
Harry stared at him for a moment. This was detention – why would Snape offer him tea?  
'No thanks,' he said shortly. 'I'd rather get this over with if you don't mind.'  
'As you wish,' said Snape, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a large envelope as he spoke.  
'So? What am I to do, _sir_?' said Harry.  
Snape gave him a discerning look. 'You are to listen ... very carefully.' He opened the envelope and started taking out various items from it.  
'I am going on a mission for the Order tomorrow, and there are certain things you should know, in case I don't ... well, just in case.' He showed Harry a key, which looked very familiar to him. 'This is the key to my Gringott's vault,' Snape went on. 'It's number 793. And this is a copy of my will.' He put a large piece of parchment on the desk in front of Harry, though not close enough for Harry to see what was written on it. 'I had it changed a few months ago. I leave everything to you, of course.' He then produced another key, rather large and rusty. This one did not look familiar to Harry. 'This key goes to my flat in Knockturn Alley. I rarely use it, but you never know when it may come in handy.'  
Harry stared at Snape in utter disbelief. So this was why he had been given detention ... He didn't know what to think about all this information.  
'But ... why are you telling me all this now?' he stammered.  
'As I said: I'm going on a mission. You should know these things in case something happens to me. Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea?'  
'Oh ... well, I suppose ...' Harry said. Snape obviously took this to mean yes, because he waved his wand to produce two large steaming cups. 'When will you be back?' Harry went on, taking one of the cups.  
'Provided everything goes well I'll be here in time for your Potions lesson on Monday morning.'  
'What if it doesn't go well?' Harry said, putting his cup back on the desk without having drunk.  
'I have no reason to believe it won't,' Snape said smoothly. 'You would have had to know all this sooner or later anyway. I thought this would be as good a time as any to tell you. Oh, and by the way – I'm sorry about your Quidditch practice. I have reason to believe that the Slytherins think I've been too tolerant towards the Gryffindors lately, so I thought I'd allay their suspicions by giving you detention.'  
'Oh, that's all right!' Harry said quickly.  
'I'm glad you think so, because I might have to do it again to keep up appearances,' Snape said, 'although I'll try not to interfere with your Quidditch practice every time. And I'm sure you realise that there was nothing wrong with your potion. Outstanding, in fact, if it had been allowed to stew for two more minutes.'  
Harry hesitated for a moment. 'You know, sir, you _might_ have told me you had to give me detention before you did it.'  
'Yes, perhaps I should have,' Snape said shortly. 'Now you know, anyway. And as I said before, Harry, there's no need to call me sir.'  
'All right then, I'll remember not to do it next time I have detention.' Harry took a sip of his tea. This detention had turned out completely differently from what he'd expected. He looked at Snape, feeling a bit awkward. What was he supposed to do now? What were they to talk about? He couldn't wait to get back to Gryffindor Tower in order to think things over, to figure out what the things he'd been told really meant.  
'Well, Harry ... I have a lot to do before I leave tomorrow, so I am going to let you go early. If anyone asks, you have been disembowelling frogs.' Snape waved his wand at Harry's hands, and he suddenly noticed that he had frogspawn under his fingernails.  
'Don't worry,' said Snape, 'it will go away with a bit of Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover.'  
Harry got up. Did Snape really have something to do, or had he performed Legilimency on Harry and realised that he wanted to leave? 'Well ... good-bye, then,' he said. 'And ... good luck on your mission.'  
Snape looked at Harry for a second, his cold, black eyes as inscrutable as ever.  
'Thank you Harry,' he said. 'I'll see you on Monday.'  
Harry walked swiftly out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. 


	19. On the Home Front

**Author's Note**: Again, thank you for your reviews.  
  
I agree with GoddessMoonLady that Harry was a bit of an idiot not to understand why Snape gave him detention. But he obviously still feels insecure in his relationship to his father, as Padawan Jan-AQ pointed out. It takes time to begin to trust someone who has treated you the way Snape used to treat Harry.  
  
Concerning Draco Malfoy, I agree with Chibidaima, but all the same, he will be back later in the story ...  
  
I'm really getting into this again after the break I had, and I've started work on the next chapter but I'd love some feedback on this one before I update.  
  
**Chapter 19  
  
On the Home Front  
**  
When Harry climbed through the portrait hole in Gryffindor Tower he found that Hermione, Neville, Ron and Ginny were waiting for him. Ron and Ginny had obviously just come back from practice, because they were still wearing their Quidditch robes.  
'That was rather quick, wasn't it?' said Hermione brightly when she saw Harry.  
Ginny, however, was frowning. 'Neville's just told me everything. I can't believe that git gave you detention for no reason at all! Not considering everything ...'  
Hermione and Neville frowned at her, and Ron looked helplessly at Harry. Well, at least he didn't agree with her this time, Harry thought. He went over to the four of them and sat down.  
'So how was Quidditch practice?' he said, trying to steer the conversation away from Snape. Somehow he didn't feel like discussing his father with Ginny, at least not when she was in this kind of mood.  
'Oh, nothing special,' said Ron, sounding relieved that Harry hadn't got upset. 'It was raining so much that Katie let us go earlier.' He looked out the window where it was still pouring down.  
But Ginny still hadn't forgotten about Snape. 'What did he make you do?' she said, then catching sight of Harry's hands, 'Did you have to disembowel frogs? What a mean –'  
'Don't you call him a git again!' Harry snapped. Then he lowered his voice. 'He's my father. And if you must know, he only gave me detention because the Slytherins are suspecting something. They think he's been too nice to us Gryffindors.'  
Ginny snorted contemptuously. 'I'd hardly say he's been too nice, but all right ...' She got up. 'I'm going to have a shower now.'  
Harry looked after her, his eyes narrowing.  
'I thought it might be something like that,' said Hermione when Ginny had left.  
'You did?' Harry exclaimed, turning back to her. 'Why didn't you tell me? I was all upset with Sn–, er ... him.'  
'Well, you kept avoiding us,' Hermione said exasperatedly, 'like you always do when you have a problem these days. Besides, I thought you realised ...'  
'Yeah ... I guess I should have,' Harry said sheepishly.  
'So, what did you and Professor Snape do all this time?' said Neville.  
Harry hesitated. He didn't want to give his friends any details about the conversation with Snape, and he certainly didn't want to mention his mission right here, in the Gryffindor common room. 'Oh, you know ... we had a cup of tea,' he said evasively.  
Hermione, Neville and Ron took the hint, and didn't ask him any more questions.  
  
That night, Harry had trouble sleeping again. He couldn't get the conversation with Snape out of his mind. What kind of mission was he going on? It must be really dangerous for him to feel the need to show him the keys to his bank vault and flat in Knockturn Alley. Wait a minute – Harry's mind backtracked. Snape had a flat in _Knockturn Alley_? That seemed very ... odd. Harry had never thought of Snape as living anywhere, except at Hogwarts of course. But he realised that he, like all the other teachers, must have some kind of life outside of school: a life with a home, friends and family.  
If someone had asked him, Harry would have guessed that Snape had a house similar to 12, Grimmauld Place, or maybe a house in the country. But somehow, Harry had always assumed that Snape spent all his time in the Dungeons, except when he went on missions for the Order. Then again, Knockturn Alley wasn't much better than the Dungeons, Harry supposed. No wonder Snape had said that he didn't spend much time in his flat.  
And then there was the will. He hadn't really got to see it, but Snape had said that he left everything to him. But what, exactly, did 'everything' mean? Harry didn't really care about money; after all, his parents – or rather, his mother and James Potter – had left him enough to be able to get by quite nicely. But he was still curious what else Snape thought important enough to put in his will.  
The following day, Snape was sitting at the High Table as usual at lunchtime, but at Dinner his seat was empty, and Harry assumed that he must have gone on his mission. He looked at Dumbledore and the other teachers – they all looked perfectly normal and cheerful, not worried in any way.  
Perhaps there was nothing to worry about – Snape probably went on missions like this all the time, and it was a mere coincidence that he had decided to show him his will before this one. In fact, Harry seemed to remember that Snape had frequently been absent at Dinner on Fridays, only to be back for their Potions lesson on Monday morning, as usual.  
Still, Harry felt unusually jumpy that weekend. He couldn't concentrate properly on his homework either, as his mind kept wandering. There was so much he didn't know about Snape, that he now wished he had asked when he had the opportunity. He hoped that he would have the chance to do so in the future.  
Hermione, Ron and Neville noticed that Harry was absent-minded and did their best to cheer him up, but Harry preferred to be alone. Therefore he spent most of his time polishing the pieces of his chess set, making sure that they looked as impeccable as they had when Snape gave it to him. He also worked on an essay on the use of Henbane in potion-making, writing almost two feet more than Snape had requested, and an inch more than Hermione had written.  
  
On Monday morning, Harry looked anxiously at the High Table when he came into the Great Hall for breakfast. Snape wasn't there. Harry's heart sank, but then again, Snape was often absent from breakfast. Perhaps he liked to eat earlier than most students, and besides, he might not come back until just before his first class. Harry hardly ate anything, and told Hermione and Neville to get a move on so many times that they exchanged looks of exasperation behind his back.  
When they got down to the Potions classroom, Harry sighed with relief. The door was already open – that had to mean that Snape was back. He had simply gone straight down to the Dungeons instead of having breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry walked through the door after Hermione and Neville, then stopped. Snape wasn't here – standing behind the desk, rifling through a pile of essays, was Remus Lupin.  
On few occasions had Harry become so disappointed to see his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He remained standing in the doorway although several of the other students had to push their way past him. Why wasn't Snape here? He had said that he would be back in time for their lesson.  
'Where's Professor Snape?' he said anxiously.  
Lupin looked up from the essays and gave Harry a concerned glance, but then quickly put on a neutral expression. 'Professor Snape has asked me to take this class today,' he said airily.  
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked pleased, but Hermione and Neville shot nervous looks at Harry.  
'But where is he?' said Harry, still not moving from the doorway, even though the entire class was in the classroom by now.  
'Oh, don't worry,' said Lupin, walking up to Harry. 'I know I'm far from qualified to teach Potions, but you'll have Professor Snape back in no time.' He bent forward to close the door behind Harry, and whispered, 'Go and sit down, Harry. We'll talk later.'  
But Harry didn't care who heard them right now; he didn't care about anything except finding out where Snape was.  
'But when will he be back?' he said shrilly.  
'I said: we'll talk later,' said Lupin between clenched teeth, clearly marking that this was the end of the conversation. Harry had never seen Lupin this stern before, and went and sat down immediately.  
Everybody was staring at him, except Hermione and Neville, who did their best to look the other way, but Harry didn't care.  
'What on Earth has got into Harry Potter?' he could hear Ernie McMillan whisper to Terry Boot at the table next to theirs. 'Why does he want Snape back? Shouldn't he be happy to have Lupin for Potions instead, be able to take things easy for a change?'  
Harry looked down at his desk, seething, but his anger evaporated quickly as he, once again, became worried about what might have happened to Snape. He performed abysmally that lesson, but couldn't have cared less. He counted the minutes until the end of the class, and when it finally came he waited impatiently for everyone to leave the room before he turned to Lupin again.  
'So, where is he?' he hissed. 'He said he'd be back in time for this lesson!'  
Lupin looked tired and worn, even more so than usual. 'Listen, Harry, we can't talk about this now,' he said wearily.  
'Oh, just tell me what's happened to him!' Harry said furiously.  
'I don't know,' said Lupin. 'If I did, I swear I would tell you about it. The Order are investigating his whereabouts as we speak, and as soon as we find out anything I'll make sure you're told about it, all right? I know you're worried, but you have to go about your day as usual, Harry. You can't do anything suspicious – you know as well as I do that Voldemort has eyes and ears practically everywhere.'  
'But where was he going?' Harry said impatiently. 'He told me he was going on a mission ...'  
Lupin sighed. 'I've already told you; we can't talk about this now, Harry. Come back here at Lunch and we'll talk then. Hopefully we'll have heard something by then too.' He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and pushed him out of the room before he had time to object.  
Harry remained standing in the corridor outside Snape's classroom for a few minutes. He had to admit that Lupin was right – he shouldn't have talked like that about Snape in front of the entire class. How could he have been so thoughtless, exposing him in front of everyone, Nott included? Harry did not want to endanger Snape's mission any further, so he would of course do what Lupin had told him to do: go to his next lesson and pretend as though nothing was wrong. But why hadn't Lupin wanted to tell him anything about Snape's mission?  
Harry's ruminations were cut short by the arrival of the next Potions class, a crowd of fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins, so he quickly made his way to the Transfiguration classroom. He arrived a little late, but to his surprise McGonagall said nothing about this, but simply gave him a worried glance just like Lupin had.  
Harry paid no attention whatsoever during the class. Once again, he counted the minutes until the end of the lesson, when he would be able to go down to the Dungeons again and speak to Lupin; hopefully he would be able to tell him something about what had happened to Snape then.  
McGonagall pretended not to notice that he was so absent-minded; he could see that from the way she looked at him a few times. It was obvious that she knew what was going on. Somebody must have told her about Snape being his father, and, being a member of the Order, she would know about his mission as well.  
  
As soon as the class ended, Harry ran out of the classroom without telling anyone where he was going. He arrived at Snape's classroom slightly out of breath and entered Malfoy-style, without knocking. The room was empty – Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was in Snape's office, Harry thought, walking over to the door that led into the adjoining room. It was ajar, and Harry pushed it open. The office was dark and empty, however, and Harry was about to turn away again when he caught sight of something sticking out behind the side of Snape's desk. It looked like the hem of someone's robes.  
Harry walked closer to investigate, and then he stopped and gasped. Snape was lying between the fireplace and the desk, his eyes glazed and empty, and his usually sallow skin as white as chalk. His chest did not move, and there was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.  
There was no doubt about it – he was dead. 


	20. Harry's Worst Fear

**Chapter 20  
  
Harry's Worst Fear  
**  
Harry knelt down beside Snape. How could this be? Why? Why did this have to happen now when they were finally beginning to get to know each other, when he was beginning to ... feel relaxed in his father's company – to like him? Hadn't he been through enough? He'd already lost his parents once, and now he'd lost his father all over again. Was this never going to stop? Was he going to lose everyone who was important to him?  
Harry remained on the floor next to Snape, staring at him in shock, not knowing what to do. After a while he heard steps in the classroom next door, and Lupin's voice calling 'Harry,' but he didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Then he heard the steps coming into Snape's study, heard Lupin's gasp as he caught sight of Harry and Snape on the floor and rushed over to them.  
Then, suddenly, Snape's body turned into a shiny, silvery orb, which hovered a few feet over the ground, right in front of Lupin. Harry sat paralysed on the floor, staring at the spot where his father's body had been only a second before. Dimly, as though from very far away, he heard Lupin say '_Ridikkulus_!' in rather a shaky voice, and then the orb vanished.  
'Harry!' said Lupin, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. 'Harry! It was a Boggart – that's all. It was a Boggart. I was going to bring it to my next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson to show the third-years. It must have broken out of its case somehow.'  
Harry looked up at Lupin and said, with some difficulty, 'It was a Boggart?'  
Lupin nodded and looked straight into Harry's eyes. 'Yes, Harry, yes.'  
'But I saw him – he was dead!' Harry was shaking.  
'Harry, I swear, it was only a Boggart!'  
Harry looked at him in disbelief. 'But my Boggart's always a Dementor!'  
'Your Boggart always reflects your greatest fear, Harry,' Lupin said gently. 'And your greatest fear has changed now.' He paused, eyeing Harry with concern. 'We still don't know anything about why Professor Snape hasn't returned. I went to speak to the Headmaster before coming back here to meet you, Harry, but he believes there is no reason to be worried – yet. We'll just have to wait. You will be told as soon as there is any news.'  
Harry was panting as though he had been running a great distance. It hadn't been Snape's body after all – only a Boggart ... only a Boggart. Only now did it sink in fully. But then, where was Snape? Why wasn't he back?  
'But where was he going, Professor?' said Harry hoarsely. 'What could have happened to him?'  
'I'm afraid I am not at liberty to tell you anything about Professor Snape's mission,' said Lupin. 'But I assure you that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He has been on several dangerous missions before, and he has always returned safely.'  
'But has he ever been late before?' Harry asked. 'He told me that if everything went well he'd be back for our class.'  
Lupin hesitated. 'No, Harry ... So far, he has never been late.'  
  
Harry went straight back to the Gryffindor common room after his conversation with Lupin. He certainly wasn't going to the Great Hall, nor did he want to eat anything. He really didn't feel like facing anybody right now, but he didn't want to leave the building in case Lupin would look for him.  
Harry had never been so shaken in his entire life. He had faced Voldemort on several occasions, he had seen Cedric and Sirius die, but nothing – _nothing _– could compare to this. He would never have imagined that his Boggart had changed, but now he realised just how worried he had been about Snape ever since the detention when he had shown him his will.  
And it still felt like he had a huge weight at the pit of his stomach at the thought of what might have happened – what might still happen – to Snape. Lupin had said that he could take care of himself, and Harry didn't doubt that, but the fact that he was late seemed more and more ominous to Harry. And he had seen in Lupin's eyes that Lupin had been thinking along the same lines.  
Harry couldn't stand the thought of once again losing someone who was important to him. His parents and Sirius dying was more than enough, he wasn't going to lose Snape too, not now when he had finally come to terms with the fact that he was his father. Snape had to be all right. It would be too cruel if he weren't.  
Harry shook his head, trying to get the image of Snape, dead on the floor, out of his head. It had seemed so real. He remembered how Mrs Weasley's Boggart had turned into different members of the Weasley family last Christmas, and only now did he understand what she must have felt at the time. So this was what it was like to have a family ...  
If only Snape was all right, Harry would do anything ... Never again would he behave so childishly as he had only a few days ago, when he had considered returning the chess set because of a mere triviality. If Snape was all right, Harry would never get mad at him again, no matter what he did. If only he was all right ...  
The Fat Lady gave him an odd look as he gave her the password to Gryffindor Tower – did she know everything too? Harry wouldn't be surprised if Phineas Nigellus had told her all about Snape being his father. But no, the Fat Lady and her friend Violet were the school's biggest gossips. If they knew, all of Hogwarts would know by now.  
When Harry got into the common room, he found Hermione, Neville and Ron standing in the middle of the room, immersed in a heated discussion.  
'He was really upset,' Hermione said anxiously. 'I think we should go look for him.'  
'He could be anywhere, Hermione,' Ron said exasperatedly. 'We can't search the whole castle and the grounds. He'll probably turn up sooner or later – let's just wait here.'  
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, just as Harry stepped forward.  
'I'm here,' he said glumly.  
'Harry, are you all right?' said Hermione with a look of relief on her face.  
'No,' said Harry. 'No, I'm not. Something's happened to ... to my father.'  
Hermione and Neville gave each other a glance that told Harry they had already suspected something like this.  
'What is it, Harry?' said Neville quietly.  
'I don't know.' Harry sighed heavily. 'When I had detention with him he told me that he was going on a mission, but that he'd be back in time for our lesson today.'  
'Well, maybe he was just delayed,' said Ron. 'He's only a few hours late – that's not so bad, is it?'  
'Did you talk to Professor Lupin about it?' said Hermione.  
'Yes.'  
'And what did he say?'  
'He said that they don't know where he is yet, but that there's nothing to worry about.'  
'Well, there you go then. Everything's probably all right,' said Ron, trying to sound cheerful.  
'No, you don't get it!' Harry said impatiently. 'Lupin was only saying that to calm me down; he was really worried too, I could tell.'  
'But Snape always goes on missions, doesn't he?' said Ron 'He can take care of himself.'  
'No, I'm telling you: you don't get it!' Harry hissed, then lowered his voice even further. 'He knew something was going to happen – back in detention, he even showed me his will, and the keys to his bank vault and flat in Knockturn Alley. So I'd know in case something happened to him. He must have known, already then, that something _would _happen.'  
'Hang on ...' Ron stared at Harry. 'Snape has a flat in _Knockturn Alley_?'  
'Really, Ron!' Hermione snapped angrily, then turned to Harry. 'He showed you his will?'  
Harry nodded. 'He's leaving everything to ... to me.'  
'Oh, well, then he would have had to show it to you some day,' Hermione went on, 'I'm sure he didn't think ... I mean, he didn't just show it because ...' She stopped, not knowing what to say.  
'Look, Harry, I'm sure it will be all right,' said Neville.  
'I don't think so,' said Harry fretfully. 'He said that if everything went well he'd be back this morning. Something's gone wrong, I know it has.'  
'Perhaps ...' Hermione hesitated. 'Perhaps you should talk to Dumbledore, Harry.'  
At that moment the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped in. She looked unusually grave.  
'Potter ...' she said. 'The Headmaster wants to speak to you ... immediately.'  
Harry stared at her. 'What's wrong?'  
'Professor Dumbledore will tell you everything,' McGonagall said, giving him a look of sympathy. 'Now hurry. The password is liquorice wand.'  
Harry hesitated for two seconds, and then he ran. Snape must be dead, or gravely injured, or held prisoner by Voldemort, or ... whatever it was, he had to find out as soon as possible. He gave the password to the stone gargoyle, and waited impatiently for the revolving spiral staircase to reach the top. He knocked on the door, and entered.  
Dumbledore was standing in front of his desk, talking to one of the paintings. He turned to Harry and gave him a grave look.  
'Harry, Professor Snape has been injured,' he said.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
**Author's Note**: Thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter 19: **aikidobrat, GoddessMoonLady, Rhysel Ash, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, Lady Lily 3, HecateDeMort, uten, volleypickle 16, ironic-humour, Ebony Potter, sumthynspecial, George's Brother Fred, villette1, leggylover03, Anna Taure, silent as a shadow, Chibidaima, ..., Climhazzard, Connie Eressea, Padawan Jan-AQ, Sierra, risi, Darkness' Creation, diamond004 **and **SammyBlack80**!  
  
Sorry about the cliffy in Chapter 19, I agree, that was very mean of me. But I suppose you all realised, deep down, that I wouldn't kill off dear old Snape ... not at this point anyway ;)  
  
I was a bit surprised that no one got upset with Ginny's behaviour, by the way. But I suppose you had enough on your minds with Snape supposedly dying and all.  
  
**Climhazzard**: As you can see, this wasn't the chapter where Harry matured, at least not very much. But he may well do so in the future. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, it's so inspiring to get reviews like that!  
  
**Padawan Jan-AQ**: I was rather fond of the bit with Harry polishing his Chess Set, too!  
  
**risi**: As you've read, Lupin is back, but it is too early to tell whether Voldemort knows anything or not ...  
  
**sumthynspecial**: It is my aim to write Snape as much in character as possible, so I'm glad you think he is.  
  
**Lady Lily 3**: It's OK, no need to scream! :) 


	21. Mortal Peril

**Chapter 21**

**Mortal Peril**

'Injured?' Harry repeated.

'He has been taken to St Mungo's,' Dumbledore went on. 'I am going there myself shortly. Do you want to come with me?'

'Yes,' said Harry immediately. So it was just as he had feared. And what a question, of course he wanted to come!

Dumbledore nodded. 'Very well. We shall leave as soon as I get the all-clear signal. No one can know that you're coming with me, however, so please fetch your Invisibility Cloak, and don't tell anyone where you're going ... except Miss Granger and Mr Weasley if you feel you must.'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, and rushed to the door. But then he turned back quickly. 'Professor? Is it very serious?'

Dumbledore surveyed Harry, his clear blue eyes grave and unsmiling. 'I'm not going to lie to you, Harry: yes, it is.'

Harry didn't wait to see if Dumbledore intended to elaborate on this; he ran out of the office back to his dormitory as fast as he could, not bothering even to stop in the common room to explain to his friends what was going on. His hands were shaking as he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk; he stuffed it under his robes and ran down the stairs again. Hermione, Neville and Ron were waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, inquisitive expressions on their faces.

'He's injured,' Harry panted. 'I'm going with Dumbledore to St Mungo's. Don't tell anyone where I am.' He rushed towards the portrait hole; as he climbed through it he heard Hermione calling 'Good luck, Harry!' after him.

When he came back to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was talking to the picture again; Harry recognised one of the former Headmistresses on the wall – Dilys Derwent – who had used her painting in St Mungo's to inform Dumbledore about Mr Weasley last year.

'Yes, you can go now,' Dilys was saying just as Harry burst through the door.

Harry shot a quick glance at the painting of Phineas Nigellus. He wasn't leaning casually against its frame now, nor was he admiring his gloves. He had a look of deep concern on his face.

'Thank you, Dilys.' Dumbledore turned to Harry. 'Please put on your cloak immediately, Harry. We will be travelling by Floo Powder. When we get there, keep your cloak on and follow me.'

Harry nodded and followed Dumbledore to the fireplace. Dumbledore took some green powder from a jar and stepped into the fire. 'St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,' he said. When he was gone, Harry stepped into the fireplace after him and followed the same procedure, taking care to say the name of the hospital loudly and clearly. He noticed that he didn't get his mouth full of ash now that he had his Invisibility Cloak on.

When he arrived he fell out of the fireplace, and got worried for a second that someone might have seen his foot, quickly hiding it again under the cloak, but Dumbledore was standing right in front of him, blocking him from view. Dumbledore started walking through the crowded reception area, and Harry did his best to follow him as quietly as he could.

They walked up a flight of stairs and entered a corridor that seemed familiar to Harry; it was the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, which Harry recognised from last year. Had Snape been bitten by something? By Nagini perhaps? They didn't enter the 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn Ward where Mr Weasley had been treated for his bite, however, but walked on down the corridor until they reached a sculpture of a very sinister-looking wizard dressed in strange clothes.

Dumbledore looked to both sides of the corridor – there was no one to be seen – before he said to the statue, 'All quiet?'

A reply came from somewhere beside the statue. 'Yes. Healer Smethwyck's in there.' Harry recognised the voice, and thought that it might be Hestia Jones under Moody's Invisibility Cloak, but wasn't entirely sure.

'Good,' Dumbledore said, then muttered something Harry couldn't hear. The statue moved aside, revealing a narrow doorway. Dumbledore walked through it, and Harry followed.

They came into a small, dark chamber with only one bed. Someone was bending over it. Harry wanted to throw off his cloak and run over to the bed, but he didn't dare without Dumbledore's permission.

'How is he, Hippocrates?' Dumbledore said gravely.

The Healer straightened up and turned to face them, still, however, blocking the view of the bed. 'It is very serious,' he said. 'I wish you would let somebody from Spell Damage take a look at him, Professor Dumbledore. I'm not qualified for this kind of injury.'

'You're the only one we can trust, Hippocrates,' said Dumbledore. 'It is imperative that no one find out he is here. We have reason to believe that Voldemort has spies here at St Mungo's.'

Healer Smethwyck flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, then said, 'Well, I can't guarantee anything. I'll do my best, of course, but he is gravely injured and should be receiving expert care.'

'I am perfectly aware of your capabilities and their limitations,' Dumbledore said calmly, 'and I am convinced that you will succeed in curing him.' He turned to Harry. 'You may take off your cloak now. Hippocrates, this is Harry. He will be staying here with me. Harry, this is Healer Smethwyck.'

Harry took off his cloak and Healer Smethwyck looked curiously at him. 'Very well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and see to my other patients.' He walked past Harry and Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was still blocking Harry's view of the bed. Only when Healer Smethwyck had left, and the statue had moved back into position, did Dumbledore move aside.

Harry rushed forward to the bed. Snape was lying on it, looking so much like Harry's Boggart had looked, that it made Harry gasp in horror again. His eyes were closed, and there was no blood trickling out of his mouth, but he was deadly pale and immobile. His breathing was shallow and uneven.

Dumbledore came to stand next to Harry, bending over Snape and peering closely at his face. Then he picked up one of his pale, limp hands, examining it closely too. Harry had no idea what he was doing.

'What's happened to him?' he said breathlessly.

'He has been cursed,' said Dumbledore, looking at the hand apprehensively.

'Is he ...' Harry swallowed. 'Is he going to survive?'

Dumbledore didn't answer, but kept looking at Snape's hand. Then, slowly and carefully, he put it back on the sheet and turned to face Harry. 'Professor Snape has had to face more serious curses than this, Harry,' he said slowly. 'But ... he is still in mortal peril.'

Harry noticed that his knees were shaking, and he looked around for something to sit on. Dumbledore conjured up two comfortable reclining chairs.

'We might be here for quite some time,' he said as Harry sat down 'There is nothing we can do but wait.'

The hours went by, and Harry and Dumbledore sat in their chairs, waiting, watching. From time to time, Healer Smethwyck came into the room to give Snape a potion, or to perform some strange, complicated charm on him, but the rest of the time the room lay in complete silence.

For the first time, Harry felt he had a real grasp of what the Weasleys must have been feeling that night in Grimmauld Place, when they sat together with him and Sirius, waiting for news about their father, not knowing whether he was going to survive.

Harry couldn't imagine that only a few months ago, he hadn't even wanted to acknowledge Snape as his father; he had felt he would rather have a dead James Potter than a living Severus Snape for a parent. What a fool he had been! Only faintly surprised, he realised that James Potter had faded to a very dim image in his mind; he had become someone Harry rarely thought of – if ever.

Harry realised that he had not only grown accustomed to the thought of Snape being his dad, but he had come to rely on Snape being there for him, even if it was only in the background. He had come to rely on the fact that, if he wanted to, he could always talk to Snape, in a way he could never talk to Dumbledore or anyone else. That was why he had told Snape about his dream, rather than McGonagall or Dumbledore – because when all was said and done, Snape was his father. It was of little importance to Harry now that he had been a Death Eater, that he had deceived his mother, that he had bullied Harry and his fellow students – he was his father, and nothing could change that. And besides, Snape had changed remarkably only since last year, no matter what Ginny or anyone else thought.

Harry realised that so far, Snape had been the only one to make an effort to build some kind of relationship between the two of them – he had changed his behavoiur towards Harry in class, even though this had been a considerable risk so far as the Slytherins were concernced; he had given Harry his chess set as a peace offering; he had started calling him by his first name and told Harry he could choose whatever he wanted to call him. So far, Harry had offered him nothing in return, except for a confidence about the dream. He hadn't even thanked him properly for the chess set. If only Snape was all right, Harry vowed that this would change.

Harry didn't know how long they sat there in silence, listening to Snape's uneven breathing, but he guessed that it must already be night when Dumbledore finally spoke again.

'Would you care for a sherbet lemon, Harry?' he said.

'What?' said Harry, startled.

'Or perhaps you'd like something more substantial to eat,' Dumbledore added as an afterthought.

'No,' said Harry. 'No, thanks, I don't feel like eating.' He had hardly eaten anything the whole day, but he still didn't feel hungry.

Dumbledore took a golden watch from his pocket and looked at it, then went to the door. Harry heard him whisper something to the person on guard outside, and then he came back and sat down. After about ten minutes someone entered the room quietly, but it turned out not to be Healer Smethwyck.

'How is he?' It was Mrs Weasley's voice. Harry looked up at her, and she gave him a concerned look.

'The same I'm afraid,' said Dumbledore. 'Would you be so kind as to take Harry up to the Tearoom, Molly. He needs to eat something.'

'I'm fine,' said Harry. 'I want to stay here.'

'Please go with Mrs Weasley, Harry,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'There's no telling how long we might be here – you must eat something. I promise I'll send for you if there is any change.'

Mrs Weasley put her hands on Harry's shoulders, and he didn't resist as she gently led him out of the room, first giving him his Invisibility Cloak. Harry was feeling faint as the walked along the corridor and realised that he did, indeed, need something to eat.

The Tearoom was rather empty since it was late at night, and Mrs Weasley bought Harry some sandwiches and a cup of tea, all of which she handed him under the Invisibility Cloak. They weren't able to talk, but Harry didn't mind; he really didn't feel like talking to anyone but preferred to sit and eat in silence.

When Harry had almost finished eating, a middle-aged witch with shoulder-length, mousy brown hair and paisley robes entered the Tearoom. She came over to their table and sat down, almost knocking over their empty teacups with her pink handbag.

'Wotcher, Molly,' she said, then lowered her voice. 'Is Harry here?'

Mrs Weasley nodded.

'You're to go downstairs,' Tonks said to the empty space on the other side of Mrs Weasley, not knowing where Harry was. 'Dumbledore wants you.'

Harry couldn't get up fast enough, and ran down the stairs at such a speed that he almost bumped into a frail-looking wizard who was on his way up. Just before he reached the statue in the Creature Induced Injuries corridor, he ran into something big and almost fell over. It had to be the guard.

'Phew, take it easy,' said Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice.

'It's me, Harry,' he hissed, 'I need to get in!'

'There you go,' said Shacklebolt, muttering the password.

Harry went inside and saw Dumbledore facing him from the other side of the bed, leaning over Snape who was still lying there as pale as ever. What if he was dying? Or was he already dead?

But as Harry was thinking this, Snape stirred for the first time since they had got there. Then he opened his eyes.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, **Queen-of-Gondor, GoddessMoonLady, Lady Lily3, Climhazzard, ironic-humour, Volleypickle16, lillinfields, aikidobrat, leggylover03, Anna Taure, risi, americanpie, RandiWeasley, SammyBlack80, silent as a shadow, Chibidaima, Ebony Potter, sumthynspecial, George's Brother Fred, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo**, **Arica, Princess of Rivendell**, **l'Ciel, HecateDeMort** and **Sierra**!

**ironic-humour**: Yes, this whole incident has made Harry think about his relation to Snape, so in that sense it is a turning point. And if Snape survives, he will probably think things over as well.

**risi **&** silent as a shadow**: I wonder what Snape's boggart would be too, not in this fic but in the books ... Gaaah, can't wait to find out! But I'm afraid JKR will never tell us what it is. Anyway, I thought it would be likely that Harry's Boggart would change under the circumstances.

**Ebony Potter**: I didn't realise that there were such an enormous amount of fics called _Changes_ when I first posted this ... It's my first fic and I didn't think of checking before I chose the name. But now it almost seems like the proper thing to do: calling your Severitus fic _Changes_, so if I ever write another one, I might just call it _Changes II_ or _Other Changes _or something like that ... just to keep up the tradition. I've got one planned, actually. And the first chapter written.

**George's Brother Fred** & **Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo **and all those of you who are wondering: You'll find out more about Snape's injuries soon – to a certain extent, at least.

**Arica, Princess of Rivendell**: Thanks for your praise, I'm flattered!

**Sierra**: You haven't missed chapter 15 of _After the Defeat_, have you?


	22. Out of Danger

**Chapter 22**

**Out of Danger**

Snape looked at Harry, who was just removing his Invisibility Cloak, then turned his head to face Dumbledore on the other side of the bed. He then closed his eyes again, a wheezing sound coming with every breath he took.

'Will he be all right?' Harry asked quietly, his voice trembling slightly with the effort to conceal how worried he really was.

'He is still very ill,' said Dumbledore, 'but yes, Harry, his condition has improved considerably.'

Harry gave a slow, quiet sigh with relief. He looked at Snape. 'What will happen now?' he asked.

At that moment, Healer Smethwyck came in with a phial containing a violently turquoise potion. Seeing that Snape had his eyes closed, he put it on the bedside table.

'Well, Professor Snape has definitely taken a turn for the better now,' he said reassuringly. 'He should still be staying in Spell Damage, of course, but ...'

The door opened again and Tonks and Mrs Weasley entered. 'How is he?' said Mrs Weasley, going over to stand next to Dumbledore. They all turned to look at Healer Smethwyck.

'As I was saying, he is over the worst now,' Healer Smethwyck repeated, looking tired but considerably less worried than he had been when Harry first arrived. 'From now, he should be improving steadily. He still needs rest and care, however,' he went on, looking reprovingly at the crowd of people standing around Snape's bed as if to say that there were far too many visitors in the little room. They all looked at each other guiltily.

'Yes, well, I know it's too early,' said Dumbledore, 'but I think it would be best if Professor Snape could be moved from St Mungo's as soon as possible. He should be at a safe location.' He looked at Snape, who was now opening his eyes again.

'When you're quite finished talking about me as though I weren't here,' said Snape, still wheezing, 'would someone please tell me how long I have been unconscious.' His eyes looked slightly glazed and feverish.

'You were brought to St Mungo's about sixteen hours ago,' said Healer Smethwyck.

Snape said nothing at hearing this, but looked at the crowd surrounding him, his eyes coming to rest on Harry for a second before he closed them again and went on breathing wheezily.

'Where do you want to take him, Professor Dumbledore?' said Tonks.

Before Dumbledore could answer, Healer Smethwyck said, 'He is still in need of professional care. Wherever he goes, I shall have to see him at least once a day to begin with, preferably twice. And he will need someone to look after him the rest of the time.'

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. 'I'm afraid he can't go to Hogwarts. I know that Madam Pomfrey would be the person best suited to take care of him, but I don't want to take the risk. It's impossible to keep a secret at Hogwarts, and it is imperative that no Death Eaters find out that Severus is injured – Molly, if you could –' he turned to look at Mrs Weasley.

'Arthur and I would be more than pleased to have Professor Snape stay at The Burrow,' she said. 'I'd be able to look after him, and if you want, Madam Pomfrey could come and stay too, Professor Dumbledore.'

Dumbledore smiled at her. 'That's very kind of you Molly, but it might arouse suspicion if Poppy went away for any length of time. But perhaps she could look in on you every now and then, just like Healer Smethwyck.'

'Yes, of course,' said Mrs Weasley.

'And then, when Severus is feeling better,' Dumbledore went on, 'I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind a visit either ...'

'Harry knows he's welcome at The Burrow any time,' said Mrs Weasley, turning to Harry and smiling.

Tonks was looking slightly confused, and Harry realised that she didn't know yet that Snape was his father. Well, he supposed she'd realise soon enough if she hadn't already guessed, as would the other members of the Order.

'Well, I think Healer Smethwyck is right,' said Dumbledore, 'Severus needs peace and quiet now. I think it's time you all left. I am afraid that before I leave, I shall need you to give me a report, Severus – if you feel you're up to it.' Dumbledore looked down at Snape, adressing him directly for the first time.

Snape nodded without opening his eyes.

'You had us quite worried there for a while, Severus,' said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Snape opened his eyes again and snorted contemptuously. 'I daresay you managed well enough. Who's taking my classes?'

'Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall have agreed to take them while you are away.'

'Lupin!' Snape snapped. 'Can't make a potion to save his life.'

Dumbledore smiled. 'Seems to me like you're already feeling better, Severus.' He turned to Harry. 'I know you want to stay here, but you must return to Hogwarts now, Harry. I have instructed Professor McGonagall to tell your classmates that you were called away because your great-aunt was dying. The next time you leave Hogwarts it will be to "attend the funeral." Please stick to that story, except of course with your closest friends.'

Harry looked at his father. He didn't want to leave him now that he was conscious again. What if he took a turn for the worse, and he wasn't there? But he knew that he must do what Dumbledore wished, for Snape's safety, if nothing else. Dumbledore had made it very clear that it was important that no one find out that Snape had been injured – why, Harry didn't know. But he realised that he might already have jeopardised everything with his behaviour during the Potions class. Harry looked at Dumbledore again and nodded.

'Miss Tonks will take you back to Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore calmly.

Harry nodded again and turned to Snape, not quite knowing what to say. Snape was looking at Harry, his eyes still glazed and slightly unfocussed.

'I'll see you soon, Harry,' he said.

'Yeah ...' Harry said nervously. 'Hope you'll feel better soon.'

'Thank you.' He closed his eyes and went on breathing labouredly.

When he walked down the stairs to the reception area together with Tonks, Harry almost turned around and ran back to Snape's room. After days of worrying about him, after hours of sitting by his side, thinking that if only he didn't die things were going to change from now on, all he'd been able to say to his father was _I hope you'll feel better soon_. Harry wanted to kick himself.

He didn't know quite what he ought to have said instead – something that didn't sound so stupid, so lame, so cold. This wasn't some common acquaintance, after all, this was his father. But then again, the room had been full of people, and both Healer Smethwyck and Tonks had no idea that Harry was Snape's son. Or did they? Harry shot a quick glance at Tonks, who was still in her middle-aged witch disguise, but they had reached the fireplace and it was time to travel back to Hogwarts.

When they arrived in Dumbledore's office Harry took off his cloak and looked around. It felt odd to be here with Tonks, and Dumbledore not present. Tonks transformed into her usual appearance, her hair tomato red today. Someone cleared his throat right behind Harry, and he turned around to see Phineas Nigellus's pale face.

'How is my great-grandson?' said Phineas, still looking as concerned as he had done that day – was it only yesterday? – when Harry had been summoned to this office to accompany Dumbledore to St Mungo's.

'He's all right,' said Harry, smiling for the first time in ages.

'Well ...' said Phineas, taking a deep breath and leaning casually against the frame of his picture again. 'Dangerous, working for the Order, isn't it?'

'I suppose it's better being a Death Eater, Phineas?' Tonks said sarcastically.

'Not at all, my dear Nymphadora!' Phineas gave Harry a sly look. 'Certainly not when one is so intimately related to The Boy Who Lived himself ...'

Harry looked at Tonks. How would she react to this?

'Sorry to disappoint you, Phineas,' she said sweetly, 'but I already know that Harry is Professor Snape's son.'

Phineas did indeed look disappointed.

'You know?' said Harry.

Tonks turned to him. 'Molly told me. It was a bit of a surprise, I must say. Although most of us had been suspecting something since last Christmas, to tell you the truth.' She looked at Harry scrutinisingly. 'How are you feeling, Harry? About ... everything?'

Tonks was certainly taking this well, Harry thought. 'Well, I ... I've only just got used to the idea of him being my father.'

Tonks nodded. 'I guess it was a bit of a shock for you when you first found out.'

'Yeah, a big shock.' Harry thought back, with some embarrassment, at the time when he'd seen Dumbledore's memories in the Pensieve. He found it difficult to believe, now, that his reaction had been so strong ... Thankfully, everything was different now. And, most important of all, Snape wasn't dead, but recovering, so Harry would get the chance of putting things right ...

For some reason Harry felt much more comfortable talking about this with Tonks than with anyone else, he suddenly realised. On the one hand, she was quite close to his own age, but on the other she wasn't at Hogwarts together with him. 'I'm really happy he's OK.' Harry went on. 'I'm actually looking forward to getting to know him better ...'

'Well, of course you are,' said Tonks, as though there was nothing odd about anyone wanting to get to know Snape, of all people. 'I'm sure he wants to get to know you too.'

'I just hope he'll be all right now,' Harry said fretfully.

'He'll be fine, Harry,' Tonks said reassuringly. 'Dumbledore wouldn't let him go to the Burrow if he didn't think it was safe. And then, when you visit him, you'll have all the time in the world to get to know each other. Meanwhile, just keep your head down and pretend as though everything's as usual. I know it's difficult, but it has to be done.' She looked at her watch. 'I'd better get back to St Mungo's now. And you should get some sleep, Harry. Is there anything you'd like me to tell Professor Snape?'

This was it. This was his chance to tell his father something more important than _I hope you'll feel better soon_. Harry hesitated. 'Er ...' He was at a loss for words.

Tonks smiled understandingly at him. 'I'll tell you what, why don't you talk to him yourself at the Burrow instead?' she said, knocking the jar of Floo Powder off the mantelshelf as she spoke.

Harry nodded.

When Tonks had left, Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. He was feeling very tired, and he knew that he would have to get up in a few hours and go to all his classes, acting as though nothing important had happened, except that his great-aunt had died. It wasn't going to be easy.

When he got up to the dormitory, however, he didn't go straight to bed, but instead went to stand in front of the mirror.

He looked scrutinisingly at his appearance. It hadn't changed in a long time now. In fact, Harry looked almost exactly the same as he had done at Christmas. He looked down, and to his surprise noticed that his robes were several inches to short. This meant that he was growing again. The effects of the Polyjuice Potion must finally have worn off completely. It was odd that this should have happened right now, when he didn't mind being Snape's son anymore. He wouldn't even mind if he changed to look even more like Snape.

He looked back in the mirror. So this was the way he looked – the way he _really_ looked. Harry wasn't displeased with what he saw. His hair was far too greasy, of course, but his nose wasn't nearly as hooked as Snape's, and his skin wasn't as sallow. And his eyes were still exactly the same as they had been – his mother's eyes. He didn't look like a carbon-copy of Snape, and yet the person looking back at him from the mirror wasn't a stranger either. It was still Harry Potter – only a different Harry Potter.

**Author's Note**: Again, thanks for all the really nice reviews! Many of you said they were looking forward to some father-son interaction, and I apologize that there was so little of it in this chapter. But it's coming, I'm looking forward to it just as much as you are. The only thing is, I'm having a hard time making sure it won't be too fluffy, and I also want to keep them as much in character as possible. But I'm working on it as I said.

Finally just a few things about** height** in this fic.

**1. Snape's height**: A lot of people seem to believe that Snape is tall. However, Snape's height is never mentioned by JKR, with the exception of the quarrel scene in chapter 24 in OotP, where Sirius is described as being 'rather taller than Snape.' Now this doesn't mean that I think Snape is short, I just think that he is not as tall as James Potter. Particularly since James is described as 'tall' in chapter 12 of PS. In this story, therefore, Snape is slightly shorter than James, which is why Lupin sees him shrink in the telephone box in chapter 3 of _Changes_. If I'm wrong, and there is a place where JKR describes Snape as tall, please give me the quote! :)

**2. Harry's height**: At the beginning of this story, Harry was the height that he would have been at this age, had he really been James's son. As the effects of the Polyjuice Potion begin to wear off, Harry shrinks to the height he is actually supposed to be at this age, being Snape's son. However, as Harry is only 16 he still hasn't reached his full height, and now that the effects of the potion have worn off completely he has started growing again. One might of course argue that Harry shouldn't have been very tall in the first place, due to being malnourished for ten years at the Dursleys', but I personally think that after five years at Hogwarts he has caught up. Also, in chapter 1 of OotP he is described as looking like he has 'grown a lot in a short space of time.'

Comments:

**Ezmerelda**: You're right, this isn't a parody. I only wrote that in the summary because some parts of the story are rather exaggerated and make me laugh hysterically when I write them. For instance, Dumbledore's lines are often like that. (Not in this chapter, though.)

**Aelita-Fan-426**: Oh dear, would you think it was that bad having Snape for a father? :)

I'd also like to say thanks to **George's Brother Fred, RandiWeasley, Chibidaima, aikidobrat, Ebony Potter, Lady Lily 3, Leggylover03, iccle mousie the potions ingredient, Climhazzard, Padawan Jan-AQ, lillinfields, Anna Taure, SmellyCat-190, aljake, texasjeanette, Dius Corvus, Dollface786, GoddessMoonLady, SammyBlack80, Queen-of-Gondor, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, HecateDeMort, 5464, Volleypickle16, Sierra **and** ShadowedHand**. Your reviews mean a lot to me! :)


	23. Waiting

**Chapter 23**

**Waiting**

When Harry woke up the next morning he felt as though he hadn't been asleep more than ten minutes or so. He remained in bed for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of his friends moving about on the other side of the bed hangings. He knew he had to get up and go to his lessons as usual, but he desperately wanted to go back to sleep. He turned on his side. Perhaps just five more minutes, he thought.

'Harry!' he heard Seamus say suddenly. 'I didn't realise you were back.'

Harry sat up, rubbed his eyes, and opened the hangings. All the other occupants of the dormitory were looking at him, Neville and Ron looking particularly concerned.

'McGonagall told us about your great-aunt,' said Dean. 'How is she?'

'Er ... she's dead,' said Harry, remembering what Dumbledore had said about sticking to his story.

'Dead?!' Neville gasped, and Ron's face went pale behind his freckles.

'Er ... yeah,' Harry said hesitantly. 'But ... but all my _other_ relatives are all right,' he went on, looking pointedly at the two of them.

'Oh ... OK,' said Ron, and Harry could see Neville trying to hide a sigh of relief.

Dean and Seamus looked confused. 'I didn't know you were that close to your relatives,' said Seamus. 'I was under the impression that you didn't like them at all.'

'Yeah, well ... I'm not close to them, but they thought it might be suspicious if I didn't turn up at my great-aunt's death bed, you know ... I'll have to go back for the funeral soon, too.'

'C'mon, Harry, let's have some breakfast,' said Ron, apparently eager to find out what had really happened at St Mungo's.

Hermione had been thinking along the same lines, obviously, because she was coming towards them as they came into the common room, carrying a large stack of buttered toast.

'The Fat Lady told me you were back, Harry,' she said as they went down to the lake despite the fact that the sky was an ominous grey colour, and there was an icy cold wind.

They sat down under the tree where Sirius Black and James Potter had once tormented Harry's father, wrapping their cloaks tightly around themselves.

'So, what's going on? How is Professor Snape?' Hermione asked when they had made sure that no other students were in the vicinity.

'Better,' said Harry, unable to suppress a relieved grin.

The others looked relieved too, smiling at Harry.

'He's not back though, is he?' Neville asked.

'No, he isn't out of bed yet,' said Harry, 'but Dumbledore said I could go and visit him when he's feeling better.'

They sat under the tree until their first lesson began, Harry telling his friends about almost everything that had happened since he left Hogwarts the day before. When he got to the part about what Snape's symptoms were, Hermione exclaimed, 'Oh, that sounds just like the curse Dolohov put on me last year in the Department of Mysteries. Although I wasn't half as seriously affected, because he couldn't say it out loud, of course.'

'Do you really think it's the same curse?' Harry said eagerly.

'I think it might be,' said Hermione seriously. 'That's a very dangerous curse, though. Professor Snape's lucky to be alive.'

'But ... but he'll be all right now, won't he?' Harry asked, trying to sound casual. 'I mean, he won't have a relapse, you think?'

'If Healer Smethwyck said he's taken a turn for the better I wouldn't think so,' said Hermione, looking thoughtful. 'But one can never be sure with this type of curse ...'

Harry stared at her, anxiously, and Hermione gave him a smile.

'Don't worry, Harry,' she said. 'I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't move him from St Mungo's if it wasn't safe. Where's he going, by the way?'

'To the Burrow.'

'Oh, well that's excellent,' said Hermione, looking pleased. 'I'm sure Mrs Weasley is just the right person to look after him.'

'Yeah, she's great with sick people, mate,' said Ron. 'Wonder what Fred and George'll say, though.'

'They don't live there anymore, do they?' Hermione snapped. 'So it's none of their business.'

'Well, they go home for Sunday Dinner every week,' said Ron, smirking. But then he noticed the look on Harry's face and quickly put on a blank expression. 'Anyway, it looks like it's going to rain, perhaps we'd better go inside.'

As they were walking through the Entrance Hall they bumped into Ginny and Luna, who were on their way back from breakfast.

'Hello Harry,' said Luna. 'How's your great-aunt?'

'Er ...' Harry looked around. The Entrance Hall was full of people, and he could see a gang of Slytherins, among them Draco Malfoy, standing close by. 'Er ... she's dead.'

'But all his _other_ relatives are just fine!' Ron added quickly.

Hermione looked at Malfoy and his friends, frowning. 'How about a nice walk before our lessons begin?' she said cheerfully.

'Oh, yes,' said Luna. 'What an excellent idea.'

They all nodded and walked out of the castle together for the second time this morning, ignoring the fact that the weather looked even more threatening than before. They went to a corner of the courtyard and huddled closely together in the cold wind, throwing suspicious glances towards the Entrance door every now and then.

'So, Professor Snape's all right?' Luna whispered.

'Well, he's out of danger at the moment anyway,' said Harry.

'Good,' said Luna, smiling dreamily at him.

'Yeah ...' said Ginny hesitantly. 'That's good.' She took a deep breath before she went on. 'Listen Harry ... I'm sorry about what I said the the other day. It's just that I ... I mean, I know he's your father, but I don't understand how you can ... well, how you can forget about everything he's done all of a sudden. How, suddenly, everything he does is all right with you.'

Harry looked at her for a few moments, and when he spoke he chose his words carefully. 'I haven't forgotten about everything he's done, Ginny. I know he's no saint. And I don't think it's all right for him to bully students or ... well, do certain things that he used to do – and sometimes still does. But I know things now that I didn't know before, and the situation isn't as simple as I used to think it was. And even if I don't approve of everything he says or does, he's still my father. Nothing can change that. Ever. And I guess I've just ... accepted that.'

There was an awkward silence, Ginny looking down at her feet, and Hermione, Ron and Neville throwing anxious glances at Harry and Ginny, while Luna stared into thin air, softly humming a Weird Sisters song under her breath.

'Harry's right,' Neville said quietly after a while. 'Professor Snape isn't exactly the most ... likeable person I've met, and I used to be terrified of him. But I know that when it comes to the crunch he's on the right side. And the way the world is today, that's what really matters – not snide remarks and House Points and detentions.'

They all stared at Neville, Ron and Ginny looking impressed. No one seemed to know what to say, but then, suddenly, Hermione said loudly, 'Yes, I agree with you, Neville, Puddlemere United are much better than the Chudley Cannons. You're totally wrong, Ron.'

They all turned to Hermione, staring at her now. Harry was just about to ask what on Earth she was on about when he caught sight of Draco Malfoy, who was standing behind a stone pillar, apparently trying to eavesdrop on them.

'Yeah ...' he said, turning back to the others. 'You're totally wrong, Ron.'

The others, apparently also having spotted Malfoy, nodded in unison, Luna now absent-mindedly humming the Puddlemere United team anthem.

Harry had a hard time concentrating on his work during the rest of the week, which went by very slowly. He kept worrying that McGonagall was going to come and tell him that Snape had taken a turn for the worse, but then again, he kept hoping that she would come and tell him it was time to go to The Burrow.

Nothing happened, however, and Harry was forced to sit through lesson upon seemingly endless lesson, until he seriously considered sending for some Skiving Snackboxes from _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_. He was also tired of having to endure all the questions about his great-aunt from well-meaning class mates, and he was fed up with not getting any news about his father.

So far, he had acted very sensibly, or so he thought, sticking to the great-aunt story, and doing a great job of pretending that nothing was worrying him. He hadn't once asked Lupin or McGonagall if they knew anything about Snape's condition, for fear that someone might overhear, and every day he suppressed the urge to go to Dumbledore's office and beg him to let him go to The Burrow. He thought that it was rather inconsiderate of Dumbledore that he hadn't thought of the possibility that Harry might be interested to know how his father was doing.

Harry kept his feelings to himself, however, remembering what Tonks had said about keeping his head down. He took some comfort in the fact that Snape was at The Burrow, which, as far as Harry was concerned, seemed the ideal place to be if you were ill. He wasn't so sure that his father was of the same opinion, however ...

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was lying in his bed in a small room at The Burrow. He had been woken by voices, and for a fleeting moment he had hoped that it was Harry who had come for a visit. When he heard Mrs Wealsey's tone of voice, however, he realised that that couldn't be the case.

'Oh, well, if you must,' came her muffled voice through the door. 'Only if he's awake, though. He needs to sleep as much as possible.' Snape moved cautiously where he was lying in his bed, to see if it would hurt to turn over on his side. It still wasn't possible. It didn't hurt as much as it had the last time, though, he noted. That was always something.

Snape wondered who was coming to see him about some urgent matter this time. It felt like he hadn't had a moment of peace since he got here, what with members of the Order constantly bursting in to bring important news or ask silly questions. Didn't they ever communicate? Kingsley Shacklebolt had been here only this morning (or was it yesterday? Snape wasn't sure) to ask Snape some detail about what Narcissa Malfoy was up to, although Snape had already had a long discussion about Narcissa with Tonks the day before. He was sure he had – or had he been dreaming?

There was no end to all these visits by Order members, Snape thought. Yet Harry hadn't been here once. He was his son, after all – if anyone should be visiting him, it was Harry, not all these other people who were continually disturbing him when Healer Smethwyck had stated quite clearly that he needed peace and quiet.

Oh no. It sounded like Lupin. That meddlesome fool, what did he want this time? Talk about Harry as usual? Could he never stop interfering!

Just as he had feared, the door went open and Lupin stepped in. Snape for a brief moment considered pretending to be asleep, but thought better of it. He might as well get it over with, otherwise he'd be back in no time ...

'Severus,' said Lupin, 'you look much better!' He smiled an annoying, well-meaning smile.

'Lupin,' said Snape softly. 'What can I do for you?'

'Yes, well – ' Lupin began hesitantly.

'If it's about Harry again, I can assure you that I shall do my utmost to treat him civilly when he comes to see me,' Snape said smoothly, hoping that Lupin would leave soon.

'Er ... It's not about Harry,' said Lupin, 'it's – well, you know what time of the month it is – the full moon is approaching and, well, I've run out of Wolfsbane Potion.'

Snape groaned. Wolfsbane Potion had to be made fresh every month, so of course there wasn't any for Lupin to take. 'Great planning, Lupin,' he snapped, 'How many days are there until the full moon? It takes at least a week to make Wolfsbane Potion, and you can't expect me to get up and make it here at The Burrow – you'll have to get it elsewhere. Fresh, as you should well know by now.'

'Oh, I was only going to ask you something about it ... When should I add the powdered Moonstone – is it during or after I've added the chopped Dandelion roots and stirred it three times counter-clockwise?'

'Merlin's beard,' said Snape, 'you're not thinking of making it yourself, are you? You'll end up killing yourself.' He gave Lupin a condescending glance. 'Not that that would be a great loss,' he muttered as an afterthought.

'Minerva is helping me,' Lupin said, looking slightly worried nevertheless.

'What about Dumbledore?' said Snape, 'why isn't he making it? He's the only one capable of it in my view.'

'Didn't he tell you he is going to speak in front of the European Confederation of Wizards? He'll be away too long to be able to make the potion in time.'

Snape recalled, at hearing these words, that Dumbledore had indeed told him something to that effect, only he had been to weak and tired to take it in. 'Oh, yes,' he muttered, 'I remember.' He looked at Lupin again, who seemed to be trying to conceal how worried he really was. 'I wouldn't advise you to try making this potion, Lupin ... But if you insist, make sure you add the powdered Moonstone _while_ stirring, not after. And whatever you do, don't forget to add _all four_ table-spoons of salt, otherwise the potion will have no effect whatsoever ... at least not the desired effect.' Snape shuddered at the thought of it.

'All right,' said Lupin, looking grateful but still worried. 'Thank you, Severus. Well, I'll be leaving then. Let you have some peace and quiet.' He gave a little smile and went to the door.

'Er, Lupin,' said Snape just as he was about to open the door. 'How ... how's Harry?'

Lupin turned around. 'He's fine, as far as I know, Severus.'

'What do you mean, as far as you know?' Snape said irritably. 'Haven't you seen him? Talked to him?'

'Of course I've seen him, Severus,' Lupin said evasively. 'He's fine, as I said.'

Snape looked at him suspiciously, but didn't pursue. Instead he sighed and closed his eyes, not bothering to say good-bye. Lupin left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Snape wasn't allowed to rest for long, however, because it was only a short while before there was another knock on the door and it opened again. Snape turned his head to face the visitor, ready to sneer at whoever it was who had the impertinence to disturb him yet again. He wouldn't be surprised if Lupin were back again, with another silly question about the Wolfsbane Potion.

It wasn't Lupin, however, nor was it another member of the Order who came in. It was Harry.

**Author's note**: I am so sorry about the delay! I can only say that I had quite a lot of trouble writing this chapter, since there had to be some bridgeing but I didn't want it to be too boring. I know many of you are waiting for some Harry-Snape interaction, and I _promise_ there will be some in the next chapter.

Many thanks to my reviewers: **George's Brother Fred, RandiWeasley, Chibidaima, aikidobrat, Lady Lily 3, Leggylover03, Climhazzard, Anna Taure, SmellyCat-190, Dius Corvus, GoddessMoonLady, SammyBlack80, Queen-of-Gondor, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, HecateDeMort, Volleypickle16, Sierra****, sinj, Ezmerelda, sumthynspecial **and** Shania Maxwell. **

**Anna Taure**: As you may have noticed, Voldemort doesn't play an important role on this story, but he and/or his Death Eaters may make a brief appearance later on ...


	24. Interruptions

**Author's Note: **So sorry about the delay – again. Thanks to all those who have taken the time to review chapter 23; as I am very busy, I'm afraid I won't have time to comment on any reviews individually this time.

**Chapter 24**

**Interruptions**

Harry hesitated on the doorstep before entering the room Mrs Weasley had shown him – Fred and George's old room. He had been waiting so impatiently for this moment to arrive, but now that he was here he suddenly felt apprehensive. What if Snape looked worse now than he had done at St Mungo's? What if he wasn't recovering as well as they had all told him he was? He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Snape was lying in one of the beds, covered with a thick layer of blankets and quilts. The room was icy cold; the window was open and let in a liberal amount of chilly spring air. To Harry's relief, Snape looked much better than he had at St Mungo's. He was still much paler than usual, but his eyes no longer were feverish and glazed, and his breath wasn't wheezy anymore. He looked pleasantly surprised to see his son.

'Come in, Harry,' he said. His voice was slightly hoarse.

'Hello,' Harry said nervously, closing the door behind him.

'Could you close that window, please?'

Harry went over to the window, managed to shut it with some difficulty, and then sat down on a chair beside Snape's bed.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Under the circumstances, well,' Snape said calmly. 'What about you?'

'Me?' said Harry, taken aback. 'Er ... I'm fine.'

'Everything all right at Hogwarts?'

'Yes, it's fine,' said Harry, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Snape was the one who was ill – Harry should be asking him questions, not the other way around. But, of course, Snape was his father. Perhaps this was the way fathers talked to their sons when they hadn't seen them for a week, even if they were ill. Harry wouldn't know. Uncle Vernon would never behave like this, anyway, that much was certain. 'Everything all right here at The Burrow?' he added quickly.

'Yes,' said Snape, turning slightly in his bed, and grimacing as he did so. 'Mrs Weasley's cooking is excellent.'

'Can't you move?' said Harry, horrified at the expression on Snape's face.

'Just a few broken ribs,' Snape muttered. 'Nothing to worry about ...'

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs Weasley entered the room, carrying a tray packed with food. 'Time to eat, Professor Snape!' She put the tray down on Fred and George's desk. 'Let's see if you can sit up today, shall we?'

Snape grimaced again, but with annoyance rather than pain this time. He looked from Mrs Weasley to Harry, and then back again.

'Oh, yes,' said Mrs Weasley, turning to Harry. 'Why don't you go down to the kitchen, Harry? You must be starving. Dinner's ready; you and Arthur can begin, and I'll be down soon.' Mrs Weasley looked expectantly at him, and Harry realised that she wanted him to leave at once, grudgingly doing as he was told.

'Shepherd's Pie, Harry,' said Mr Weasley, when Harry entered the kitchen. 'Looks delicious, doesn't it?'

Harry could feel his mouth watering, but he didn't want to eat anything until he got some answers. 'He _is_ getting better, isn't he?' he said, looking scrutinisingly at Mr Weasley.

'Of course he is, Harry,' Mr Weasley said at once. 'He's much better now than when he came here. At first he couldn't eat, he couldn't drink, he couldn't move and he could barely talk. Healer Smethwyck says he's improving steadily. There's nothing to worry about; Professor Snape will make a full recovery.' He smiled kindly at Harry.

Harry sighed with relief, smiled back, and helped himself to a huge plate of Shepherd's Pie.

As the weekend wore on, Harry realised why he hadn't been allowed to visit his father earlier. Snape was still very ill, and he had to sleep a lot of the time. Even when he was awake, Harry barely got to see him, as there were so many people who had to discuss important matters with him in private.

On Friday evening, Mrs Weasley told Harry that Snape was sleeping, and that he could see him right after breakfast the next day. After spending the night in Ron's room, however, Harry waited in vain the whole morning to see Snape. After he had had breakfast with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill Weasley and Tonks suddenly showed up, each carrying a large stack of important-looking documents, which they said they had to discuss with Snape.

'Dumbledore's orders, Mum,' said Bill, when Mrs Weasley gave them a disapproving look. Mrs Weasley didn't want Snape to be disturbed, but reluctantly allowed Mr Weasley to take Bill and Tonks upstairs, together with Snape's breakfast.

As she began washing the dishes rather noisily, she suggested that Harry get his homework out of the way. Harry grudgingly agreed; he had neglected his school work somewhat over the past week, and he needed to catch up. After all, he was supposed to pretend as though everything were normal.

Mr Weasley, Bill and Tonks stayed with Snape for hours, and when they came down again they announced that he was sleeping. Harry sighed, and carried on with his essay on memory charms. Bill and Tonks were staying for lunch, and Harry didn't really feel like talking to them right now.

After they had had their lunch, just as Harry was about to ask Mrs Weasley if he could take Snape's lunch up to him, there was a loud 'crack' as Healer Smethwyck Apparated into the kitchen. Mrs Weasley promptly handed him the tray with Snape's meal, and he disappeared up the stairs. Harry helped with the washing-up, checking his watch at regular intervals.

After almost an hour, Healer Smethwyck came downstairs again, and told them that he had given Snape a sleeping draught, and that he wouldn't wake up for at least four hours. Harry suppressed his annoyance, and politely asked Mrs Weasley if she needed help with anything around the house.

When Bill, Tonks and Healer Smethwyck had all left, Harry went outside to degnome the garden. He took quite some satisfaction in hurling the gnomes over the hedge, and felt his annoyance abate somewhat. He worked for a long while, not noticing how quickly time was passing. Suddenly, Mrs Weasley opened a window and called him.

'Harry, dear! Professor Snape wants to see you.'

Harry quickly dropped the gnome he was holding and rushed inside. He ran up the stairs, pretending that he didn't hear Mrs Weasley when she told him to wash his hands. He tore open the door to Snape's room and slammed it shut as soon as he was inside.

Snape was sitting in bed today, propped up with several pillows. He looked amused when he saw Harry. At least, that was how Harry thought he looked. He'd never really seen Snape amused before, so he couldn't be entirely sure.

'What have you been doing?' said Snape, looking at Harry's dirty and dishevelled appearance. He was still quite hoarse.

'Degnoming the garden,' Harry said breathlessly, pushing his greasy hair out of his face and sitting down beside the bed again.

'You'd better wash before Mrs Weasley sees you,' said Snape, his dark eyes glittering, as they did on rare occasions.

'I will,' said Harry. 'Are you feeling better today?'

'Yes. But Healer Smethwyck seems to think I'm not getting enough sleep. I wanted to see you as soon as he had left, but he wouldn't permit it. He even gave me a sleeping draught to make sure I followed his orders.'

Harry nodded. So, Snape had wanted to see him. That was nice. 'Well, here I am,' he said, awkwardly.

'Tell me what's been going on at Hogwarts,' said Snape. 'What have I missed?'

'Oh, nothing exciting,' said Harry, trying to remember what had happened in the week that had gone by since Snape had gone on his mission. 'Professor Dumbledore told everyone that my great-aunt was ill, so they think I'm at the funeral right now. All week everyone's been asking me how my great-aunt is, and telling me how sorry they are when I told them she's dead. But I think I've done pretty well, keeping up appearances. Though Malfoy tried to eavesdrop on me and my friends once ...'

'Malfoy,' Snape spat. 'That little brat. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't wish I could give him a Vanishing Potion ... or something worse.'

Harry grinned. 'You know, you're a very good actor. You had me convinced for years that Malfoy was your favourite student.'

'Hardly!' Snape snorted. 'But it is in our best interest, as well as that of the Order, that people keep thinking that.'

'Yes,' said Harry, 'I know. What about you? I suppose you can't tell me what happened on your mission; who cursed you?'

Snape sighed. 'I promised Dumbledore not to tell you, Harry.'

Harry nodded. 'I understand. Although Dumbledore isn't always right about everything.'

Snape looked surprised. He had probably never heard anyone speak like that about the Headmaster. Well, not one of the students, anyway, and most certainly not Harry. But he would have heard much worse than that from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, of course.

'I mean, if he had only told me about the Department of Mysteries,' Harry elaborated. 'If he'd told me that ... You-Know-Who might try to lure me there ...'

'Yes,' Snape said thoughtfully. 'Perhaps that was a mistake, although Dumbledore had his reasons for not telling you. But it wasn't only his fault that you went to the Ministry that night –'

'No, it was my own fault,' Harry interrupted him.

'I didn't mean that,' Snape said softly. 'If I hadn't stopped giving you Occlumency lessons –'

'That was my fault,' Harry said quickly. 'I shouldn't have looked in your Pensieve –'

'I shouldn't have left you alone with the Pensieve in the first place. And no matter what you did, I shouldn't have thrown you out of my office like that ...And I should have tried harder to teach you ...'

'That wouldn't have made any difference,' Harry said firmly. 'I didn't try hard enough to learn. And I should have gone to you when I had that vision of Sirius being tortured –'

'You would have come to me if you had thought you could trust me,' said Snape. 'If I hadn't treated you the way I did for five years –'

'Well, you wouldn't have treated me like that if I hadn't ... if I ... if James Potter hadn't treated you like that.'

Snape smiled. 'That's no excuse, Harry.'

'No,' said Harry. 'But it's an explanation. So there you go; it's really all James Potter's fault.'

'That's quite some faulty logic,' said Snape, sounding tired. 'But all right – let's leave it at that.'

Harry grinned at him, when, suddenly, the door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked briskly into the room.

'What's this I've been hearing?' she said. 'Healer Smethwyck said you're not sleeping enough.' She stared at Snape, her eyes narrowed. 'Oh, I don't like the look of you at all, young man. You should be lying down.'

Harry stared at Snape, and realised that Madam Pomfrey was right; he looked very tired and ill, and his voice had become hoarser while he was talking to Harry.

Madam Pomfrey caught sight of Harry. 'Potter – outside. Now!'

Harry fumed with the injustice of it. He had hardly been with Snape at all; Bill and Tonks had been there for hours, and now _he_ had to leave his father again so soon. He went and washed his face and hands, splashing his face angrily with hot water. Why wouldn't they let him talk to his father in peace! And why could he, Harry, never think of anything good to say once he was with him? There he had been, finally on his own with Snape, and all they had talked about was whose fault it had been that the Occlumency lessons had failed ... When there was so much more Harry would have wanted to ask Snape.

When he had washed, Harry went downstairs and offered to lay the table to keep his mind off things, trying not to show his annoyance. After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey came into the kitchen.

'Professor Snape has been talking too much today,' she said, eyeing Harry accusingly.

'That's what _I_ thought,' said Mrs Weasley. 'But _someone_ had to spend _hours_ with him, discussing _work_!' She threw a dirty look at Mr Weasley.

'It was important, Molly,' he said quietly.

'Well, no more visitors today,' Madam Pomfrey said firmly, glancing at Harry again. 'And only a little broth for dinner. And whatever you do – make sure Professor Snape gets his rest tomorrow!'

Harry was disappointed. He had been hoping to have another conversation with his father that evening, but Mrs Weasley only let him look in quickly to say Good Night. To Harry's relief Snape looked slightly improved, however, and said he was looking forward to seeing Harry again the next day.

On Sunday morning, Healer Smethwyck came right after breakfast and stayed with Snape for what seemed to Harry like several hours. When he came down to the kitchen again, Harry eyed him intently. Was it his imagination, or did Smethwyck look more concerned today than he had the day before?

'How is he?' Mrs Weasley asked.

'He is still improving,' said Healer Smethwyck, 'but yesterday was too strenuous for him. I keep telling Professor Dumbledore that he shouldn't be allowed to have so many visitors, but ...' Smethwyck's voice faltered.

'Don't worry,' Mrs Weasley said grimly, 'I will personally make sure that he doesn't have any visitors today.' Her nostrils were flaring, and she looked murderous. She was clearly going to have things her way today.

'Er ... Mrs Weasley?' said Harry.

Mrs Weasley turned to him, and her expression softened. 'I won't keep you from seeing him, dear. But only a short visit today. Professor Snape's health is the most important thing, after all. You do see that, don't you?'

'Yes, of course,' said Harry, trying, once again, to disregard his disappointment.

When Healer Smethwyck had left, it was no more than ten minutes before Professor McGonagall Apparated into the kitchen.

'Good Morning Molly, Arthur, Potter.' She nodded at them. 'I need to see Severus.'

Mrs Weasley's nostrils began flaring again. 'I'm afraid that's impossible, Minerva,' she said curtly. 'Healer Smethwyck said he's to have no visitors.'

'This is important,' said McGonagall.

'It's always something important!' Mrs Weasley snapped. 'I said, no visitors.'

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. Harry was amazed that Mrs Weasley dared address her like that. McGonagall had once been her teacher, after all. Harry couldn't imagine ever talking to her that way.

Before McGonagall could say anything, Mr Weasley intervened. 'What is it about, Minerva?'

McGonagall glanced at Harry, hesitating. 'It's Remus.'

'Oh,' said Mr Weasley, exchanging a meaningful look with his wife. 'Is it ...'

'Yes,' said McGonagall.

There was a pause. Harry had no idea what they were talking about. What was going on with Lupin?

'Oh, very well,' Mrs Weasley said impatiently after a while. 'But you will be quick, won't you, Minerva?'

'Of course,' said McGonagall. 'And when I'm done with Professor Snape I'll take you back to Hogwarts, Potter.' She went upstairs.

'It was very important, Harry,' Mrs Weasley said apologetically when she was gone.

'I'm not leaving without talking to ... to Sn– ... to my father!' Harry said testily, thinking that he really had to decide what he was going to call Snape. 'And what's wrong with Professor Lupin, anyway?'

'Of course you'll se Professor Snape before you go, Harry,' Mrs Weasley said soothingly, disregarding his question. 'Now go and pack your things, and as soon as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape are done you can see him.'

McGonagall was in Snape's room for only ten minutes or so. As soon as she came downstairs again, Harry went up to see him. Snape looked much better today; he was sitting up again, and his face had more colour. He also sounded less hoarse when he spoke.

'Good Morning, Harry. Professor McGonagall told me she's bringing you back to Hogwarts.'

'Yes,' said Harry, frowning. 'Healer Smethwyck says you're not to have any visitors today ... Yesterday was too strenuous for you.'

Snape shrugged, then grimaced in pain again. 'Well if it was, it wasn't your fault – I've hardly seen you all weekend.'

'When do you think you'll be back at Hogwarts?' Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

'As soon as Healer Smethwyck and Professor Dumbledore let me,' Snape said reassuringly. 'I shall try to come back before next weekend. But if I don't, I'll ask Professor Dumbledore if you can come for a visit again. If you want to, that is.'

'Of course I do,' said Harry.

'He might say no, though,' Snape said warningly.

'Potter!' came McGonagall's voice from the kitchen. 'Are you coming soon?'

'I'm on my way!' Harry shouted.

'Good Bye, Harry,' said Snape. 'It was nice to see you again ...'

'Er ...' Harry hesitated, but he knew he had to say this before he left. 'I've been thinking about what I should call you ... you know, when we're alone ... You said I could call you anything I wanted ...'

'Yes?' Snape's face was inscrutable.

'Well ...' Harry said slowly, 'would you mind if I called you "Dad"?'

Snape's face remained as inscrutable as ever. He didn't even blink. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. 'Of course I wouldn't mind.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Well, then, that's what I'll call you.'

Snape nodded.

'POTTER!' came McGonagall's voice again.

'I'd better go ...' said Harry.

Snape nodded again. 'Good Bye, Harry.'

Harry went to the door and opened it. ''Bye, Dad,' he said, and closed it quickly behind him.


	25. The Wolfsbane Potion

**Chapter 25**

**The Wolfsbane Potion**

The week following Harry's visit to The Burrow turned out to be almost as frustrating as the one before. The days went by with no news whatsoever from his father, and although Harry knew that Snape was indeed recovering, he still felt a twinge of unease whenever he thought of everything that had happened. How he wished that he'd be able to communicate with Snape in some way, even if it were only by short, cryptic messages – then he would at least know – be _sure_ – that he was alive and reasonably well ...

Harry thought back at the few, short conversations they'd had back at The Burrow. At first he'd felt good about it (apart from the fact that he, Harry, had kept saying the most stupid, meaningless things) but now he was continually pondering what Snape had said, wondering what it really meant. He _had_ sounded friendly, he definitely had. Hadn't he? And he'd said that the whole story with the Pensieve had been his fault ... Although it wasn't, of course. What if he'd only said that to humour Harry? And, what – _what_ – had made Harry talk about James Potter? He'd had such a desperately tiny amount of time with his father, and he'd talked about _James Potter_ ... Harry wanted to slap himself.

And then, when he'd asked if he could call him Dad ... What had Snape really thought then? Back then, in the room with Snape, Harry had felt all right about it all, but now ... now he didn't know what to think anymore. Snape hadn't sounded happy at hearing that ... But then, of course, Snape never sounded happy. But what way _had_ he sounded? Harry kept thinking of this moment over and over again, wondering what Snape had thought of it. Maybe he – maybe he didn't really want Harry to call him Dad. He had looked ... stony-faced. But on the other hand he hadn't looked angry or anything ... As if he would though, he'd be far too polite.

Harry still hadn't heard anything about visiting Snape during the next weekend. What if he hadn't asked Dumbledore about it after all? He'd said he would, of course, but ... what if he didn't want to? ... Harry's stomach churned at the thought. What if Snape didn't really want to see him? Nobody had said anything to him, not McGonagall, not Lupin, and certainly not Dumbledore, whom Harry hadn't seen a lot lately.

Harry contemplated going to see the Headmaster about it, but decided against it. Dumbledore had been very busy since his trip to the Continent to speak to the European Confederation of Wizards. It seemed like the Order were now deeply involved in organising the resistance against Voldemort on an international level. Come to think of it, some of the teachers also seemed more preoccupied than usual, particularly Lupin and McGonagall, who also had the extra burden of taking Snape's Potions classes while he was away.

Lupin had actually seemed strangely nervous and jumpy lately; his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes had been unusually tame and boring, and yet they were nothing compared to his Potions classes. These were such a disaster that they almost made the students long for Snape's return – which was saying a lot.

Harry wondered if Lupin's odd behaviour had something to do with what McGonagall and Mr and Mrs Weasley had been discussing at The Burrow. Snape had clearly had something to do with this, so on Friday evening Harry decided to seek out Lupin, hoping he'd find out what was bothering him, but even more to try to find out what was going on with Snape.

He made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office after dinner and knocked on the door. There were quick steps inside the room and, to Harry's surprise, the door was opened by Professor McGonagall.

'Oh, it's Potter,' she said flusteredly. She hesitated, then went on, 'Well, come in – quickly!' She stepped aside to let Harry in. Behind her, Lupin was standing, holding a goblet which was smoking faintly. McGonagall closed the door behind Harry, and locked it.

'Hello, Harry,' said Lupin, 'I'm afraid I don't have time to talk right now. I have to take this Potion at once.'

Harry suddenly realised that the goblet must be filled with Wolfsbane Potion; the moon had been nearly full the night before, but Harry hadn't really thought about it, preoccupied as he was with his father's illness.

'I'm sorry –' he began.

'You'd better hurry, Remus,' McGonagall said urgently.

Lupin nodded, and swept down the contents of the goblet in one huge gulp. At that very moment, Harry noticed the full moon outside the window. There were a few rays of moonlight shining on the somewhat dusty floor, and Harry saw Lupin look at the pale light, his face turning an ashen grey. There was a short pause as McGonagall and Harry stared at him for a few seconds, and then, slowly, he began to turn into a wolf. Harry had seen this happen once before, and that time Lupin had not been under the influence of Wolfsbane Potion. Harry was glad that he had taken it now.

'Potter!' McGonagall hissed at him. 'Be ready to run if the potion doesn't work.'

Harry looked at her in confusion. She was surveying Lupin with a wary expression on her face. What was she on about? Why shouldn't the potion work? But then, suddenly, it dawned on Harry that Snape was always the one who made the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin ... and Snape, of course, had been away for over two weeks. Lupin had once told Harry that there weren't many wizards who were up to making the potion. How had he managed to get hold of it now?

Harry turned to look at Lupin again. Would he really be safe? Or would Harry and McGonagall be running for their lives out of the office in a few seconds? Lupin's skin was by now completely covered with fur, and he was shrinking rapidly and developing a snout. Harry frowned. He seemed to be shrinking a lot more than he had the last time Harry had seen him transform into a wolf. In fact, he didn't really seem to be shrinking – he seemed to be deflating.

Harry and McGonagall stared at him in fascination until the transformation was complete, both prepared to bolt out of the office if he showed any signs of becoming aggressive. When Lupin had transformed, however, they were no longer staring at a man – nor were they staring at a wolf ... They were staring at a wolfskin rug.

'Oh, no ...' McGonagall said faintly. 'Oh, no, no ...' She knelt down in front of the big rug that was lying motionless on the floor. 'Remus?' she said, gently prodding the wolf's snout with her wand. It didn't move. The big, dark eyes were wide-open and glazed.

Harry knelt down beside McGonagall. 'Is he ...?' he said.

'Don't talk nonsense, Potter – now help me carry him,' McGonagall said, her voice stern and authoritative again. 'We must take him to Professor Dumbledore immediately.'

Harry nodded, and picked up the rug from the floor. It was very large and heavy, and awkward to carry. McGonagall grabbed the wolf's tail, supporting some of the weight, and opened the door so that they could walk out into the corridor.

They walked as fast as they could to Dumbledore's office, students staring at their odd load on the way. As they were rounding the corner to the corridor with the entrance to his office, McGonagall literally bumped into Draco Malfoy.

'Watch where you're going, Malfoy!' she snapped.

Despite the fact that he was worried about Lupin, Harry couldn't help enjoying this. He loved it when McGonagall had reason to be angry with the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy in particular.

'I can't see around corners, Professor,' Malfoy drawled. '_I'm_ not that mad Moody fellow.' Then he caught sight of Lupin. 'What's that?'

'Er ... a wolfskin rug,' said Harry.

'What are you doing with it?' Malfoy asked, eyeing the rug suspiciously. Its hind legs were trailing on the floor as McGonagall was trying to get a better grip of the tail, which had slipped from her hands when she and Malfoy collided.

'This is a gift for the Headmaster from a Russian wizard – one of his very dear friends, in fact,' McGonagall lied coolly, holding the tail firmly again. 'Not that it's any of your business, young man. Now stop dawdling about here and go back to your common room, or I shall have a word with Professor Snape about you.'

Malfoy snorted contemptuously. 'Considering Professor Snape seems to have vanished from the face of the Earth two weeks ago, and doesn't seem to be about to return any time soon, that doesn't really scare me very much. And even if he _were_ here, I doubt he'd do anything about it.'

'Professor Snape will be back sooner than you think,' McGonagall said curtly. 'And if you don't watch your mouth I will give you a detention you won't forget any time soon. As it is, I'll simply take ten points from Slytherin. Now get out of here.'

Malfoy scowled at McGonagall, but walked off without any further remarks. As soon as he was gone, McGonagall gave the password to the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office, and they went up the spiral staircase. When they were up, McGonagall knocked on the heavy oak door, and entered with Harry in tow, without waiting for an answer.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, as usual, and standing on the other side of it was Snape. Harry was so surprised to see him that he dropped Lupin on the floor, and quickly scrambled to pick him up again.

Snape was looking quizzically at Harry and McGonagall. He looked much better than he had a week ago, when Harry had last seen him, but he was still much paler and thinner than he usually was.

'Minerva?' said Dumbledore, looking slightly bemused. 'Is something wrong?'

McGonagall dropped Lupin's tail on the floor, leaving Harry to balance the full weight of the wolfskin rug as best he could. 'I ... It's ...' she stammered, apparently at a loss for words.

Snape went over to Harry to relieve him of the rug, but as he reached out for it, his hands stopped in mid-air.

'Don't tell me that's ... _Lupin_?!' he said sharply.

Harry nodded. 'Yes.'

Snape closed his eyes for a second, slowly shaking his head. Then he grabbed hold of the tail of the rug, and together he and Harry heaved it onto Dumbledore's desk. They all stood staring at it for a few moments.

'He can't have put enough salt in the potion,' Snape said after a while.

'He tried to make the Wolfsbane Potion himself?' said Dumbledore incredulously.

'Well, I couldn't very well make it, could I?' Snape said irritably.

'I helped him,' said McGonagall, sounding almost embarrassed.

'But neither of you are qualified to make the Wolfsbane Potion, Minerva,' said Dumbledore. 'Why didn't you come to me?'

'Remus refused to discuss it with you,' McGonagall said defensively. 'He didn't want to bother you – he said you had enough on your mind anyway, considering recent developments internationally.'

Dumbledore sighed heavily. 'Well, I suppose he was right, or I wouldn't have forgotten that the full moon was approaching. I should have thought of it myself, and made the potion.' He bent down and began examining the rug closely.

'I specifically told him to add four spoons of salt,' Snape said, turning to McGonagall. 'Oh, I should have known something like this was going to happen. I should have made the potion myself, no matter how sick I was.'

'Don't be a fool, Severus,' McGonagall said angrily. 'You couldn't possibly have gotten out of bed a week ago. I'm to blame, if anyone; you have nothing to feel guilty about.'

'I'm not feeling guilty,' Snape snapped. 'I'm merely thinking about the fact that I shall now have to make three different restorative draughts, and spend an entire month spraying Lupin with saltwater every other hour!'

'So ... will he be all right?' said Harry.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape all started at his voice, as though they had forgotten that he was in the room.

'He will be fine, Harry,' Snape said softly. 'It will just take a while. And a lot of work,' he added, looking darkly at the wolfskin rug.

'Well, I guess that's good news, then,' said Harry, smiling at his father.

Dumbledore looked up from the rug. 'Ah, just look at the two of you ...' he said, beaming at Harry and Snape. 'You do look extraordinarily like your father, Harry. Except for your eyes, of course ... You have your mother's eyes.'

Snape rolled his eyes, and there was a loud snigger from the part of the wall where Phineas Nigellus's portrait was.

'Don't you agree, Minerva?' Dumbledore went on, disregarding Snape and Phineas.

'Remus is lying unconscious on your desk in the shape of a wolfskin rug, Albus,' McGonagall snapped. 'I hardly think this is the time to discuss family liknesses.'

'Of course, Minerva, you're quite right,' Dumbledore said airily. 'Well, I think we had better bring Remus to the Hospital Wing, so that Madam Pomfrey can spray him with saltwater. And Severus – I suppose he'll need the first restorative draught as soon as possible?'

'I'll start making it at once, Headmaster,' said Snape.

'Are you sure you're feeling up to it?' Dumbledore asked, eyeing Snape intently.

'I am perfectly fine,' said Snape.

'Very well,' said Dumbledore. 'In that case, why don't you and Harry bring poor Remus to the Hospital Wing ...'

Snape nodded and pointed his wand at Lupin. '_Locomotor_ wolfskin rug!'

Harry sighed with relief, and wished that McGonagall had thought to put that charm on Lupin when they were bringing him here.

'On second thought,' said Dumbledore, 'perhaps the two of you had better not be seen together in the castle. Minerva and Harry should take him instead. And that will give you more time to make those draughts, Severus.'

'Quite right,' said McGonagall, taking over the rug from Snape. 'Potter and I bumped into that awful Malfoy boy on our way here. He seemed very suspicious about the rug – and about Severus's absence. I took ten points from Slytherin.'

Snape muttered something under his breath.

'What was that, Severus?' McGonagall asked politely.

'You do what you must,' Snape said, just as politely.

But Harry was completely certain that he had heard Snape say 'Good for you.'

'While we're on the subject,' Snape went on, '– Harry, I intend to give you a detention when we have our next class together.'

Harry nodded. 'Right.' Now he'd finally get a chance to talk to him. He couldn't supress a quick grin, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Snape's face.

McGonagall, however, was frowning. 'Just don't take too many points from my House, will you, Severus?'

'I won't unless I have to,' said Snape, smirking.

'I'm sure you won't,' McGonagall muttered sarcastically. 'Well, come along, Potter.'

As he walked out of Dumbledore's office with McGonagall, Harry turned his head and saw his father looking at him unsmilingly. This time, it didn't make Harry feel bad, however; at least now he knew that Snape was back at Hogwarts, and well, and that he'd be seeing him soon again.

**Author's Note**: Thank you all for the reviews. I am still very busy but I will try to update regularly. Feedback is always appreciated, even though I may not have time to comment on it.


	26. A Rug with Repercussions

**Chapter 26**

**A Rug with Repercussions**

After Harry and McGonagall had left Lupin with Madam Pomfrey, who had made quite a fuss over him and brought out a bottle of saltwater immediately, Harry slowly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He was still slightly worried about Lupin, but Snape had said that he would be all right – and Harry knew he could trust him.

Harry looked at his watch, and decided to go straight down to the Great Hall instead of returning to the common room, as it was nearly dinnertime. In the Entrance Hall he ran into Hermione, Ron and Neville, and together they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry was just wondering how he should break the news about Lupin to his friends, when Hermione began to speak.

'So, did you talk to Professor Lupin, Harry?' she said as she began ladling soup into her bowl.

'Yeah …' Harry began hesitantly – _before he turned into a wolfskin rug_, he added quietly to himself, still not knowing how to tell the others.

'How was he?' said Neville. 'He's been looking a bit peaky lately, don't you think?'

'Full moomb abbroaching,' Ron said, his mouth full of bread.

Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling, where the moon was clearly visible in the evening sky. 'Not approaching, Ron, it's already here. I'm surprised you had time to talk to him, Harry.'

'I nearly didn't,' said Harry. 'He … er, well, it looks like we won't be having any lessons with Lupin for about a month …' He thought of the vacant expression in the rug's – Lupin's – eyes as McGonagall and he had placed it on the hospital-wing bed.

'Oh, we already know that,' Hermione said dismissively.

'You do?' Harry stared at her.

'Yes, he told us when you were at …' she lowered her voice, '… when you were at St Mungo's. Did we forget to mention it to you?'

'What exactly did he tell you?' said Harry, wondering how on Earth Lupin could have known at the time that he was going to turn into a wolfskin rug.

'That he has to go away for a month on urgent business for Dumbledore,' said Neville, 'and that Kingsley Shacklebolt's going to take his classes while he's away. I'm really looking forward to it; Shacklebolt's a famous Auror. You're lucky you got to spend the summer with him, Harry.'

'We think,' Hermione whispered, 'that Lupin's probably going on one of those missions again … you know, like he did last summer. We never found out what he was doing then. Did he tell you anything, Harry?'

Harry snorted. 'No, and that's not what I meant when I said we won't be having any lessons with him for a month.' He indicated that they should all lean in closer, and whisperingly told them the whole story about Lupin turning into a wolfskin rug. When he was done, all three looked suitably surprised.

'Poor Lupin!' Hermione said quietly. 'Are you sure he's going to be all right?'

Harry nodded. 'My dad said so.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'Professor Snape's back?'

'Oh, yeah … did I not mention that?' Harry said casually.

'Well, duh,' said Ron, noisily spooning soup into his mouth. 'He's been sitting right there the whole meal through.' He jerked his head in the direction of the high table.

Harry, Hermione and Neville turned their heads towards the high table in perfect unison. And there, indeed, was Snape, having a quiet conversation with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Harry watched them for a while, but Snape did not look his way. Hermione, however, had rounded on Ron.

'What on Earth's the matter with you?' she hissed at him. 'If you saw Professor Snape sitting there, why didn't you tell Harry?'

'I didn't really think about it,' Ron said, shrugging carelessly. 'I guess I figured he'd notice sooner or later. Besides, I was eating.'

'You are absolutely insane!' Hermione snapped.

Ron ignored her, and grinned sheepishly at Harry. 'Sorry, mate. I just forget he's your dad sometimes.'

'Don't worry about it,' Harry said, although he couldn't really see how Ron, or anyone for that matter, could possibly have forgotten that Snape was his dad.

Harry did not seek out his father that weekend. Now, finally, they'd have all the time in the world to meet, to see each other, to talk. He had been so eager to meet Snape before, but now he suddenly felt that there was no hurry. He also knew that Snape still needed rest and he was, after all, going to see him first thing Monday morning, not to mention that he'd have a detention with him sometime that week. Besides, Snape would probably be busy making Lupin's restorative draughts – if there was something he wanted to see Harry about, he would surely send for him.

On Monday morning, Harry felt rather cheerful as he went down to the Dungeons after breakfast. Not only was he looking forward to seeing his father again, but it would be amusing to put on a show for the other students. He had already warned his friends that Snape was going to give him a detention that lesson.

He only had to wait for about a minute outside the classroom before Snape came sweeping past the students to open the door and usher them all inside with a cold 'Get in'. Harry sat down in his usual place at the back of the room together with Hermione and Neville, and looked expectantly at his father.

Snape waved his wand at the blackboard, and instructions for making a restorative draught appeared on it. Harry wondered if this was one of the draughts that Snape was going to have to make for Lupin.

'This potion takes quite a long time to make, so I suggest you get started at once,' Snape said, eyeing the students menacingly. 'And read the instructions very carefully.' He turned his eyes to Harry and gave him a pointed, contemptuous look, that not long ago would have given Harry the chills. Now it nearly made him smile, but he composed himself and gave Snape a resentful stare in return.

Then he quickly began reading the instructions for the potion. He had done very well in Potions so far this year, and he was determined to continue on the same course. For about half an hour he worked in concentration next to Hermione and Neville, while Snape swept about the room, giving all the students except Theodore Nott snide remarks. Eventually, Snape turned up behind Harry's table. He took a close look at Hermione's potion.

'That looks quite satisfactory, Miss Granger,' he said in such a low voice that none of the other students could hear him. 'Don't clear away the rest of your potion when you have handed in your sample. I might need it for … other purposes.'

Hermione looked excited. 'Yes, Professor Snape.'

Harry had to look away to keep himself from smiling again. Was Snape going to use Hermione's restorative draught on Lupin? It seemed likely. Harry struggled to keep his face straight, and when he realised that he should have added five drops of cod-liver oil two minutes earlier, he suddenly managed that rather well. As he grabbed the bottle, he noted in the corner of his eye that something seemed to have gone wrong with Theodore Nott's potion at the other end of the room. A great cloud of black smoke was emanating from his cauldron, and he was working frenziedly to get it in check. Snape, who certainly must have noticed the smoke by now, ignored it. Instead, he turned to Harry's cauldron and peered into it.

'Tut tut, Potter,' he said, just loudly enough for the whole classroom to hear. 'Forgot to add the cod-liver oil, I believe …'

Harry looked down at the hem of his robes. 'Yes, sir.'

'Well, let this be a lesson to you. Ten points from Gryffindor for making my classroom look like a coal mine.'

'But sir,' Harry exclaimed, his voice filled with fake resentment, 'the smoke's coming from Nott's cauldron, not mine!'

'Twenty points from Gryffindor for trying to blame someone else for your own mistakes,' Snape said with convincing maliciousness. 'And that, I believe, takes away Gryffindor's lead in the House Cup.'

'I don't believe this!' Harry snapped. 'If anyone should have points taken from them it's Nott. But of course, you'd never take points from Slytherin, would you?'

'Detention, Potter,' Snape hissed. 'Tomorrow, after dinner.' He turned around and swept to the front of the room. As he sat down at his desk, his eyes met Harry's for a moment. His facial expression was as bad-tempered as ever, revealing nothing out of the ordinary, but there was something in the way he raised his eyebrow when he looked at him that told Harry that his father had found that just as amusing as he had.

When Harry left Gryffindor Tower to walk down to the Dungeons the following evening, he was looking forward to his detention very much. Finally – _finally_ – he was going to have some time alone with his father. Harry was hoping to get answers to some of the questions that were burning in his mind.

Snape always seemed reluctant to talk about his work for the Order, but there were so many other things that Harry wanted to ask him about – his childhood, for example; at present he knew nothing about it beyond what he had once seen accidentally during an Occlumency lesson. What had it been like? He knew, or suspected, that it couldn't have been happy.

Harry also wanted to know more about Snape's – and his own – family. What were they like, those two people he had seen in Snape's memory – Snape's mother and father, Harry's grandparents? And who were their ancestors, apart from Phineas Nigellus? Did they have any living relatives – were Snape's parents alive, or did he have brothers and sisters?

But most of all Harry wanted to ask Snape about his mother. What kind of relationship had Snape had with her, apart from that ill-fated incident when he had called her a Mudblood and – Harry shuddered to think about it – the occasion of his conception in Godric's Hollow? Had Snape really meant it when he had said that he loved her? Before he had known about Snape – and her – Harry had been content with what he had been told about his mother by other people, but now he was beginning to feel that this wasn't enough. His father had known her; he had cared about her, or so he said, and he'd be able to tell him something about her, something more than all those superficial things he'd found out from others.

Harry realised that they couldn't possibly cover all of this in one single detention, but he hoped that he would have more occasions to see his father soon. The Easter holidays were approaching, and even though Harry had a lot of homework to do, he intended to ask Snape if they might spend some time together then. Harry was just pondering how to best bring up this subject, when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice from above.

'Potter! You're to go to the Headmaster's office immediately.'

Harry, who was in the middle of the Entrance Hall, heading towards the stairs that led down to the Dungeons, turned around. Professor McGonagall was hurrying down one of the many staircases towards him.

'But … I have a detention with Professor Snape,' Harry said when she reached him.

'Professor Snape has been notified,' McGonagall said curtly. 'Come along.' She turned around and walked up the stairs, and Harry was left with little else to do but to follow her.

'But Professor McGonagall, I ... I haven't seen Professor Snape for weeks – or, well, I haven't talked to him, and –' She stopped and he looked up at her questioningly, but all McGonagall did was give him a strange look, almost as if she were pitying him. She gave a small sigh.

'We're in a hurry, Potter,' she said and began walking briskly up the stairs again. She led him straight to Professor Dumbledore's office, without speaking a word on the way. Harry did not try to ask her what was going on – it seemed rather obvious that she had no intention of telling him. But on the inside, Harry was fuming. Of course this had to happen! He couldn't believe that he had actually been stupid enough to think that he would get to spend some time with his father today. Of course there had to be an interruption – there was _always_ an interruption!

They had reached the stone gargoyle and were going up the moving staircase. McGonagall opened the door without knocking, and they entered. Harry was somewhat taken aback, because the room was full of people – or, to be precise, full of members of the Order of the Phoenix. Mr and Mrs Weasley were sitting in chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, Bill Weasley and Tonks were standing by the fireplace, their heads bent over what looked like a jar of Floo Powder, and in the middle of the room were Dumbledore himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt and none other than Snape, wearing a black travelling cloak. Harry swallowed. Why was Snape wearing a travelling cloak?

The room fell silent as McGonagall and Harry entered, and all heads turned in their direction. As McGonagall closed the door behind them, Dumbledore stepped forward.

'Harry, I have to tell you something, and I'm afraid we're in somewhat of a hurry.'

Harry didn't look at Dumbledore; he looked past him, at Snape. But Snape seemed strangely reluctant to meet Harry's gaze.

'What's going on?' Harry said, trying to make his voice sound calm and casual, even though that was far from how he felt.

Dumbledore went on. 'Professor Lupin's unfortunate … accident has caused some trouble for the Order. As you may have guessed, he was supposed to leave on an important mission this week. Now that he has been temporarily disabled we need someone else to take his place …'

Harry was still looking past Dumbledore at his father. 'You're going on Professor Lupin's mission?'

'Yes Harry,' Snape said steadily, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he had entered the room.

'Are you mad?' Harry said incredulously. 'Two weeks ago you nearly died!'

'Harry, I know this must be upsetting to you,' Dumbledore said soothingly, 'and believe me, I'm not entirely happy that Professor Snape is going either … but it has to be this way. He is the only one apart from Professor Lupin who can do it.'

'Why?' said Harry angrily.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. 'I'm afraid I cannot tell you that.'

Harry put his hands in the pockets of his robes and clenched his fists in fury. He was painfully aware of the fact that the entire room was staring at him, and he wished more than anything that he and Snape were alone right now. He didn't want them all here, with their pitying and sympathetic faces; and most of all not Dumbledore, who would never give a straight answer to _anything_.

Part of Harry felt like throwing a terrible tantrum, and he noticed that his fingers itched as he happened to catch sight of the table filled with Dumbledore's strange silver instruments. But he forced himself to calm down. He wasn't a child anymore, and as Snape was already standing here in his travelling cloak, ready to go, there was probably no chance of talking him out of it.

'Are you going right away?' Harry said with forced calm.

It seemed like there was a collective breath of relief in the room. They had obviously expected him to make difficulties.

'Yes, he is,' McGonagall answered for Snape. 'In fact, you're already late, Severus. You'd better hurry.' She gave him an urgent look.

There was a pause before Snape answered. 'I want to talk to Harry alone for a moment.'

McGonagall stared at him. 'But they've already waited twenty minutes!'

'They can wait five more,' Snape said coolly. 'Harry?' He swept towards the door, and Harry followed him. At the top of the moving staircase Snape stopped and closed the door behind them.

'Listen, Harry,' he said quietly, 'I know that it's frustrating to be kept in the dark all the time, but professor Dumbledore really does have his reasons for not telling you everything. If you knew certain things it might endanger not only yourself, but Dumbledore, Lupin, myself and countless others. You'll just have to put up with it for the moment.'

'It's OK,' Harry said, his voice devoid of any emotion. 'I don't really care that much about not knowing ...' he began. 'It's just that – that – well, I thought we'd finally ... get to see each other, have some time to talk –'

'I know, Harry,' Snape said with a sigh. 'But I have to go; someone has to do it.'

Harry looked up at him. He felt like shouting _But why you?_ – but instead he asked with seeming calm, 'How long will you be gone?'

'I don't know this time,' said Snape, looking scrutinisingly at his son. 'If we're very lucky, it will take a week ... but if not, it may take up to a few months.'

'A few months?' Harry exclaimed. 'But –'

'Yes, I know,' Snape interrupted him, with a touch of impatience in his voice. 'I thought I'd be at Hogwarts for a while now, and that you and I might …' he paused for a mere second. 'But these things can't be helped, Harry. As long as _he_ is still out there, this is how it's going to be. As long as he is alive we'll have to do everything to fight him, no matter what sacrifices we have to make.'

There was a long pause as they both looked at each other, Harry not knowing what to say. Finally, Snape sighed heavily.

'I have to go now.'

So this was it, Harry thought, his insides frozen. This was good-bye for a few months, very probably. Perhaps forever. What could he possibly say at a time like this?

'Well … good luck. And be careful, Dad.'

Snape nodded briefly. Harry did not wait for him to say good-bye, or to open the door to Dumbledore's office again. He simply turned around and ran down the stairs as fast as he could.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all those of you who have reviewed, and waited patiently – or impatiently – for this chapter. As there are a few days left of my Christmas holiday, I may have time to update this story soon again. It all depends on how much feedback I get. ;)


	27. The Return of the Potions Master

**Author's Note: **A big thank you to all my reviewers! :)

**Chapter 27**

**The Return of the Potions Master**

The hours that Tuesday night went by agonisingly slowly and Harry lived through them as if in a trance, scarcely noticing what was going on in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione had dragged Ron to the library to do some studying, believing that Harry was still in detention with Snape, and none of the relatively few other students who were there seemed to notice that there was anything amiss – thankfully; Harry didn't want to talk or explain things to anyone.

He went to bed early, mainly to postpone the moment when he would have to tell Ron and Hermione about Snape's departure – somehow telling them would make it all final; when he had told his friends, his father's absence would be much more real, much more tangible. He fell into exhausted sleep and didn't wake up when Ron came in.

In the small hours, Harry dreamt about his father. He dreamt of Snape, in his travelling cloak once again, but this time Harry was going too. They both took Floo powder from the jar Tonks and Shacklebolt had been holding in Dumbledore's office, and in the dream, Harry heard himself say 'Knockturn Alley!' Of course – they were going to Snape's flat! Harry felt a jolt of happiness: finally he was going to find out something about his father outside of Hogwarts, he was going to know something about Snape's personal life.

The flat was not the way Harry would have imagined a flat in Knockturn Alley – it wasn't dark and dingy; it was clean and bright yet cosy, a bit like the rooms at The Leaky Cauldron. The room they came to had stone walls with beautiful, embroidered tapestries; there was a couch and several armchairs and tables, and a large bookcase at the far end of the room. Beside it there was a door.

Soon Harry would sit on the sofa, talking to his father – perhaps they would have a cup of tea. Harry was hungry; he could feel his stomach rumbling. He hoped there would be something good to go with the tea. But first Harry would have to go through that door.

Harry reached for the door-knob, his hand shaking. He'd rather stay in the room, but ... but ... he had to ...

He had to go, he had to go through the door. He turned the doorknob.

There, on the other side, was Snape, looking at him, just looking, and then, turning ...

Harry took a step closer and looked where Snape was looking – and screamed.

'Harry – Harry!' Ron was shaking him hard, and Harry heard himself scream as if at a distance.

'Ron, Ron, they've got him! It's Voldemort, the Death Eaters, they've got my father!' He was shaking all over, his pyjamas soaked with sweat. 'Quick, Ron, get McGonagall, they've got him! Get McGonagall, Dumbledore – anyone!' He found that he was holding Ron by his pyjama shirt, shaking him, and realised that he'd have to let go if he wanted Ron to do something for him. He quickly released him, almost pushing him away, and hissed, 'What are you waiting for! Go!'

But Ron just looked at him, bewilderedly, almost pityingly. 'Harry, what are you on about?' he asked. 'How could You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters have captured Snape – he's here at Hogwarts!'

'No, no! You don't understand, he left today, he's gone – and they've got him!'

'But Harry, even if he's somewhere else you shouldn't be having visions!' Ron looked at him imploringly. 'There's the shield, remember? Please, Harry, calm down,' he added quietly.

Harry just sat there, staring at Ron, realising, slowly, that he was right. This dream hadn't been like a vision. This hadn't been a Voldemort-induced illusion (and even if it had, thought Harry, it wouldn't have meant it was true) – it had been an ordinary nightmare. It had felt like one. Harry gave a sigh of relief and looked up at Ron, who was standing there, a concerned, puzzled look on his face.

'You OK?' he asked, finally.

'Yeah.' Harry nodded, feeling slightly dizzy.

'Snape – your dad –' Ron said, 'is he... Has he really gone away again? Or did you just dream that?'

Harry let out a near sob, but quickly controlled himself, wondering, briefly, why he should react so strongly now, when Snape most likely wasn't in as much danger as he had been only a few weeks ago. When he talked again, he sounded perfectly composed. 'He had to go on Lupin's mission,' he said. 'He was the only one who could.'

'Oh no, you're not serious...' Ron looked at him 'And he only just got back from the last one! When will he be back though?'

'They don't seem to know, but I think it might take a few months.'

'What! A few months – but Harry, are you sure?'

'No, what do you think – you know they never tell me anything. But from what they said ... or hinted ...' he sighed again.

* * *

They didn't go back to sleep that morning, but went downstairs to the common room and – when Hermione got up – went for a long walk, just the three of them. The Quidditch finals were nearing and Ron and Hermione did their best to cheer Harry up; his playing hadn't been great lately, and Snape leaving once more wouldn't help, of course. This Saturday they were going to play against Hufflepuff and they needed to win, or else they might lose the House Cup to Slytherin.

That day went by, and so did the rest of the days that week, Harry going from one class to another, then to a meal, to Quidditch practice or to bed, all in the same indifferent, mechanical way. He did his homework, he answered questions in class, and he joined his classmates' conversations in a way that did not show anybody but his closest friends how worried and depressed he really was.

At Quidditch practice, however, his state of mind greatly influenced his performance on the pitch. On Friday night – the last day before the match against Hufflepuff – he failed to catch the snitch altogether, and in the end Ginny flew after it instead and Katie Bell, the team captain, was furious with him and said that if he messed things up tomorrow he'd be off the Gryffindor team faster than he could say 'snitch'.

The sun rose on Saturday morning, Harry watching it from the common-room window; he'd risen early as he had done the whole week. He'd wake up at five or even four and feel happy, sometimes, only after a while realising what was wrong, and at other times he'd wake up knowing something was amiss, but not quite what, lying in bed, blinking, then remembering that his father was gone _again_.

This morning, Harry for the first time didn't feel completely indifferent to everything that happened at Hogwarts. He thought about the match, and realised that he did care; he did want Gryffindor to win ... And besides, he didn't want Snape to come back and hear that Harry had performed abysmally in basically everything he had undertaken.

When would Snape come back though, Harry wondered. How he hated never knowing where his father was, or when he'd be back – or when he'd disappear again, having to go on some mission or other. But this was the way it would be, always; Snape had said it and now the true meaning of it suddenly struck Harry. It would be like this all the time, Snape would be risking his life over and over again, unless – unless Voldemort were gone. _Voldemort_ ... Harry's eyes narrowed. How he hated him. But there would be no change ... What was it his father had said? 'As long as he is alive we have to do everything to fight him, no matter what sacrifices we have to make.'

Harry suddenly heard the those condemning words from the prophecy again, loud inside his head, said in that eerie, harsh voice of Professor Trelawney's ... _either must die at the hand of the other_ ...

He rose abruptly. He had to see Dumbledore. Why hadn't he done this ages ago? Why hadn't he talked to Dumbledore earlier? _Because he treated you like dirt all last year_, a little voice whispered inside his head; but he quickly shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory.

At the stone gargoyle he hesitated, but only for a moment; then he used the password he had heard McGonagall say on Tuesday night and went upstairs. He knocked on the door and went inside without waiting for a reply. Dumbledore was alone and seated at his desk, looking at Harry as if he had been expecting him.

'Ah, Harry,' he said amiably, 'do sit down.'

'I – I wanted to talk to you about the prophecy,' Harry stammered without even saying hello.

'I see,' said Dumbledore, looking at him gravely. 'Yes, I thought you might want to discuss it with me.'

'I – why haven't we done something about it?' Harry blurted out. 'I mean ... as long as Voldemort's around my father will always have to go on dangerous missions, won't he? And so will everyone else, everyone in the Order. Why aren't we doing something? I have to ...' he hesitated '... kill him ... don't I, so why aren't you telling me how? Why aren't you teaching me?' He looked accusingly at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore lowered his gaze for a moment before answering, looking almost guilty, Harry thought. He then looked back up at him. 'Your question, Harry, is entirely justified.' He sighed heavily. 'I'm surprised you didn't seek me out earlier – at the beginning of this school year even – to find out about this. But you had other things on your mind then, I daresay.'

Harry snorted. Of course he'd had other things on his mind. Why – _why_ – could Dumbledore never get to the point? 'So can I learn it now, Professor Dumbledore?' he asked. 'Whatever it is I need to learn.'

'I'm afraid not, Harry,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'Some things, of course, you are already learning, but there are other things you need to know in order to be ... in order to have a chance against Voldemort. So why have I not begun training you yet, you ask?' Dumbledore's eyes met his for a second, an intense blue stare, mesmerising. 'As you know, Harry, it is at the age of seventeen that wizards come of age. And there is a reason for that – seventeen was not a random choice. Wizards gain certain abilities around that time in life, abilities which make more advanced magic possible – forms of magic which you will need in your fight against Voldemort.'

'What are you saying?' said Harry incredulously. 'Do you mean to say that I'll have to wait that long before doing anything? Before I can even begin to learn?'

'I'm afraid you will have to wait even longer, Harry – on your seventeenth birthday, we – the Order – will be able to tell you exactly what it is you need to know. Then it will probably take you some time to acquire the skills, the magic you need. I expect everything to be ready for a confrontation – a final battle, if you will – at the end of your seventh year at Hogwarts.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore, unable to believe what he had just heard. 'The ... the end of my seventh year? But that's – more people may die! How can you say that? How can you sit there calmly and say we'll wait a while longer – a _year_ longer, just like that, while practically everybody's in danger?' _And Snape most of all_, he added quietly to himself.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. 'Harry, believe me, I wish there were a way we could do this earlier. Believe me, I really do – but surely you see it is of paramount importance that you succeed in defeating Voldemort. If, God forbid, something should happen to you, all would be lost.'

Harry stood there quietly for a moment. As much as he hated to admit it, Dumbledore was right; if something happened to him, there was nobody else who could do it – there was nobody else who could kill Voldemort. He shivered. 'I see,' he said flatly after a little while. 'I understand.' He looked at Dumbledore, who suddenly seemed to have the air of a very old man. 'I – I'd better get going.' He turned around and, without another word, swept out of the room.

* * *

The Quidditch game that afternoon was a disaster so far as Harry was concerned. He hadn't been playing well this term at all, but during this game his performance seemed to have reached an all-time low – he did even worse than during the practice session on Friday night. The weather was good, but Harry's vision was blurred as though it were raining heavily, and he didn't catch sight of the snitch even once. He flew around on the pitch aimlessly and once he nearly got hit by a stray bludger which had approached him from the front, clearly visible. In the end, the Hufflepuff seeker, Susan Bones, caught the snitch at the other end of the pitch and Harry didn't even see her do it.

'Thank God we've got Weasley,' Katie Bell said acidly as she went past Harry after the game without even looking at him. Ron had saved practically every goal, so it was thanks to him that Gryffindor had managed to scrape a narrow victory after all – 180 to 170. It made Harry feel even more useless; not only was he unable to defeat Voldemort, but he couldn't even play a decent game of Quidditch anymore. That night he went to bed as early as he could without attracting too much attention.

On Monday morning he went to the Potions classroom with a heavy heart. Somehow the Potions classes made Snape's absence much harder to bear – Harry briefly considered skiving off this class, but Hermione seemed to have noticed something and didn't let him escape, so Harry ended up going down to the Dungeons with her and Neville.

They had waited outside the classroom for a few minutes when a black-clad, bat-like figure swept past them, and Harry's heart leapt with joy. Snape was back! Harry fought hard to restrain himself from smiling as he went to his usual seat and didn't quite succeed, but bent down to look at his book, closely, in order to hide the silly, happy expression on his face. Snape was safe. Nothing bad had happened to his father...

The lesson went like a dream; Harry finished his potion first of all, and was the only one besides Hermione who succeeded in making it correctly. He half expected his father to put on a performance like he had the last time, but nothing happened; in fact, Snape ignored Harry almost completely, only giving him a snide remark or two. Harry didn't mind though; this time he wouldn't wait for Snape to give him detention, but go and see him in his study no matter what anyone said. So long as he was careful, nobody would know.

'A couple of months, eh, Harry?' Ron said, grinning, at the Gryffindor table at lunch. They looked up at the High Table simultaneously, all three of them, but Snape wasn't there yet.

'Well, my dad made it sound like he'd be away for ages,' Harry said apologetically and began shoving Yorkshire pudding onto his plate, grinning back at the two of them. Only now did he realise how happy he was that his father was back, out of danger once more.

* * *

After his last lesson, Harry decided to venture down to the Dungeons at once. This time he _would_ talk to his father; nothing was going to stop him.

A group of third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws came towards him on his way down; they came from their Potions class, no doubt, and Harry heard one of them complaining about the class and about Snape himself. As he passed the Hufflepuff boy, Harry met his gaze for a short moment and flashed a sneer at him, making him shrink back in surprised discomfort. _Serves him right, talking like that about my dad_, Harry thought fleetingly, walking on in the direction of the Potions classroom. He assumed Snape would still be there tidying up.

As he rounded the corner to the Potions corridor, he noticed with satisfaction that it was nearly empty; only at the far end there were two giggling Ravenclaw girls. The classroom door opened and Snape came out, not noticing Harry at first.

'Hello!' said Harry quietly, smiling at his father.

Snape turned to look at him. He said nothing.

'You're back early – I thought it would take longer,' Harry went on, only now becoming slightly puzzled at Snape's reaction – or lack of it, for Snape still didn't answer but stared at Harry as if he were insane. At this moment Anthony Goldstein came round the corner into the Potions corridor, walking resolutely towards Snape.

'Anything on your mind, Potter?' Snape said coldly.

Harry could do nothing but stare. What had he done? Had he, Harry, done something to offend Snape? 'I ... er ... I wanted to come and see you' he stammered. 'Since you're back again ...'

'I am aware that I am back, Potter,' Snape sneered, 'so, unless there is anything else you wish to tell me – something I _don't_ know – I suggest you get back to Gryffindor tower.' He gave Harry a cold, disdainful glance. 'I daresay you need to work on your Potions essay, lest you fail it as usual. Yes, Mr Goldstein?'

'I wanted to ask you something about my Potions essay, sir,' said Anthony, sounding slightly nervous.

'Very well then, come in,' Snape snapped, and slammed the door shut behind Anthony, giving Harry a look of heart-chilling resentment as he did so.

Harry was left outside alone, a look of incredulous confusion on his face, utterly unable to understand what had just happened.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading – now please give me a moment of your time and review. 


	28. The Impostor

**Chapter 28**

**The Impostor**

Harry was standing in the sixth-year boys' dormitory, looking in the mirror. There was nobody else around; they were at dinner, most of them, but Harry was not hungry. It felt like he wouldn't ever be hungry again.

Staring at him from the mirror was a sixteen-year-old boy with a thin face and spectacles, his hooked nose conspicuous, but his green eyes also noticeable behind the glasses. Harry's lips curled in a disdainful sneer at the Snapeish person he had become during this school year, making him look even more like his father.

A week had gone by and Snape had treated Harry worse than ever, worse even than he had used to during Harry's previous school years. At first Harry had constantly felt like crying; he had been on the verge of sinking into a state of tearful self-pity again, but now the tears and the sadness seemed to have gathered as a heavy, leaden lump at the pit of his stomach, not trying to force its way out.

What was it to him if his father didn't want him? – he'd managed without parents for years, and he'd never even liked Snape anyway. _But Snape had told Harry personal things, he'd given Harry the family chess set ... he'd even changed his will in Harry's favour. And he'd been ... friendly. Fatherly_ Harry winced and forced these thoughts away from his mind. That brief time when they'd talked, begun to come to know each other, had been an interlude only; now things were back to normal. Snape had probably changed his will once more, excluding Harry from it – not that it mattered; that was the least important thing of all.

Now Harry would pretend he had no father. It wasn't as if anyone knew about it anyway, so nobody would be surprised ... _Apart from Ron, Hermione, Neville..._ Harry stopped; he mustn't think of them, nor of any of the others who knew. He'd tell them and they'd just have to accept it. They'd _have_ to.

Harry looked at his image in the mirror coldly, reproachfully, turned around and made for the door. Now he was going to eat.

* * *

As he entered the Great Hall he glanced quickly up at the High Table before heading over to his fellow Gryffindors. Snape was there, eating, looking as sour as ever. Harry went and sat next to Hermione – Ron was sitting further away, talking animatedly to Lavender – and helped himself to some custard pie and gobbled it down, sloppily; the main course was gone already. Only after a while did he notice that Hermione repeatedly cast furtive glances in his direction, although she seemed to be deeply immersed in a small, black uninteresting-looking book called _The Dark Agenda: Twentieth-Century Wizards of Dubious Character_. As she rose, she brushed against him and whispered in such a low voice that he could hardly hear her, 'Meet me outside.'

Harry gave a slight nod and went on eating for another few minutes, then he, too, left. As he had expected, Hermione was waiting for him just outside the main entrance, putting her book away as she saw him approach.

'Harry, really, do you never think?' she said to him accusingly as they began walking away from the castle as if by mutual agreement.

'Never – what?' Harry exclaimed. 'What do you mean, never think?'

'Oh, Harry, here you've been sitting around agonising over Professor Snape's strange behaviour and you've never even noticed ... I mean, he's your dad, how come you haven't realised –?' Hermione paused, looking at him urgently. 'You do see that we've got to talk to Dumbledore, don't you?'

'Hermione, I haven't a clue what you're on about,' Harry said exasperatedly.

'It's not him! Don't you see, Harry?'

'What – you mean ... Snape?' Harry was staring at her now, both of them still walking albeit a little more slowly. They were heading towards the lake.

'Of course, who else! It _has_ to be someone else, don't you see? Harry, I swear, the real Snape would never, ever do this to you!'

Harry gave a quick, bitter snort. 'Ah, but you forget, this is what he's always done to me.' He smiled grimly.

'Not since he found out you were his son, Harry.' They had come to a halt and Harry looked out over the lake, dispassionately.

'Look, Hermione, I can handle this, it's not like you have to make up some story to cheer me up.' He gave a small, ironic smile. 'He's simply realised that I'm the person he's hated all these years and that he still does, and he's acting accordingly. I don't think it's somebody else; he's far too like himself for that. He's behaving exactly the way he's always done.'

Hermione looked at him. 'You don't really believe that,' she said seriously. 'You know I'm right. Remember when Barty Crouch junior impersonated Mad-Eye Moody so well he even fooled Dumbledore?'

'Sure, but he's dead now – or demented, at least.'

'There are other people who could do it just as convincingly. There are several Death Eaters who are still at large, and Voldemort trains them well. Snape might be held captive while this impostor finds out about all the Order's secrets!'

This time Harry remained silent. Though this seemed unlikely, it wasn't altogether impossible.

'You see, Harry?' Hermione went on imploringly. 'We've got to talk to Dumbledore.'

'Dumbledore!' Harry snorted. 'He'd say, "I trust Severus Snape" and that'd be that.' He thought about all the times he'd talked to Dumbledore this past school year, and there was nothing cheerful about it. First he'd found out about his – his _father_; then he'd experienced a brief moment of joy when he thought the prophecy didn't apply to him, but Dumbledore had told him it wasn't so. Then he'd wanted to commence his training, but yet again, Dumbledore had put a stop to it. Harry did most definitely not want to go and see Dumbledore. 'You go and tell him if you're so sure about this,' he said to Hermione. 'What's stopping you?' He turned around and walked off, leaving Hermione standing there, a look of astonished disbelief on her face.

* * *

It appeared that Hermione, for once, had taken Harry's behaviour badly; during the following days she didn't seek him out once and she seemed to be busy studying even more than she usually did.

The Easter holidays had begun and Harry didn't have to face Snape. The only times he ever saw him was at meals, and then he never looked at Harry or acknowledged him in any way.

Harry tried not to think about Snape or anything to do with him, but buried himself in various Defence Against the Dark Arts-books, determined to start learning as much as he could now instead of waiting until it pleased Dumbledore to begin to teach him. He paused, sometimes, wondering why he was doing this – after all, the person he was doing it for no longer took any heed of him – but he always reached the same conclusion: even if Snape didn't want him, Harry still wanted to ... protect him. Even if Snape would never say another friendly word to him, Harry wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of giving him the chance to die for him, or in any other way sacrifice himself for Harry. Even if Snape were never friendly to him again, Harry didn't want him to die.

As the end of the holiday was approaching, Ron came over to Harry where he was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, eating the last of the sweets Mrs Weasley had sent him in his Easter Egg and reading _Deflection of the Mind: How to Perform _and_ Resist the Cruciatus Curse_, which he'd taken from the restricted section of the library a few nights ago.

'Well, Harry,' said Ron, 'You're very sociable these days.'

Harry looked up at him coldly. 'It's not as if you have a lot of time for anybody but Lavender yourself,' he said.

Ron blushed slightly but went on, 'You know what I mean, mate,' he said. 'Tell me – whatever did you say to Hermione to make her so ...' he hesitated.

Harry looked at Ron, seeing him properly for the first time in days, if not weeks. Even though Ron had apologised for what he'd said at Christmas, and they'd done things together since, the three of them, things had never been quite the same as before. Harry averted his eyes. He felt, for the first time, a vague sense of loss; there was no way things would ever be the same between the two of them. Ron had been his first real friend in the wizarding world – his first real friend ever. And now ... now there was a gap between them, an invisible yet unbridgeable gap. Harry sighed.

'Oh, all right, I'll talk to her,' he said wearily. 'If you think it'll help ...' he looked around, but Hermione, as he'd expected, wasn't to be seen. 'At dinner, OK?'

Ron nodded. 'Right, at dinner.'

* * *

A while later Harry scanned the Gryffindor table, searching for Hermione's shock of auburn hair. She wasn't there yet, however, and Harry sat down opposite Ron and Lavender. Unintentionally his eyes came to rest on Snape, sitting at the High Table with his usual bad-tempered expression. Snape did not seem to be eating, but he drank from his goblet from time to time, saying the odd word to the other teachers. Suddenly Harry's stomach churned and he thought he'd be sick – there was his father, _his!_ – and he treated him like _nothing_, didn't even look at him at mealtimes. Harry suddenly wondered if Snape had other children somewhere. Maybe he'd discovered some other unknown child, or maybe he'd had one all along, estranged perhaps, but still his child. A son – or daughter – he liked better. It seemed unlikely in the extreme, but wasn't it just as unlikely that Harry should be his son? Perhaps ... perhaps Snape had other children, other relations he hadn't told Harry about, other people more important to him ... Harry shuddered, feeling a dull pain in the region of his stomach.

Then, however, Snape looked his way, his eyes meeting Harry's for one fleeting second. As he looked away again, he knocked over the goblet he'd been reaching for, and at that moment, Harry knew Hermione had been right. This couldn't be the real Snape. Snape ... Snape never knocked things over. And he didn't have a look like that in his eyes. Harry kept staring at him, and although he reacted exactly the way Harry would have expected, this idea didn't leave Harry's head – it wasn't Snape.

Harry leapt up, his meal untouched, and looked for Hermione urgently. She still wasn't there, and Harry left without saying a word to anyone. He went to the Gryffindor Common Room first, then called out Hermione's name at the foot of the spiral staircase that lead to the girls' dormitories. When there was no reply, he left, looked out of a window to see if she was visible anywhere outside, then went to the library.

He found her in the Restricted Section.

'Hermione!' He hissed so that Madam Pince wouldn't hear; he couldn't go into that section without permission unless he used his invisibility cloak. He called out again and she rose and came over to him.

'You were right,' said Harry quietly. 'I should have believed you from the start – it isn't Snape.'

Hermoine sighed with relief. 'Finally, I thought you'd never come round,' she said and smiled.

* * *

They walked to Dumbledore's office hurriedly; if there was an impostor here instead of Snape there shouldn't be a moment's delay – who knew what this person had already found out about the Order? And ... where was Snape? What had happened to him?

'Professor Dumbledore!' Harry and Hermione blurted out at once as they opened the door to his office, then Harry went on, 'Professor Snape isn't the real Snape! It's somebody else – I'm sure; there's no way it can be him.' He stopped, catching his breath, looking at Dumbledore. He had expected a look of shock, surprise, or at least comprehension to appear on Dumbledore's face, but it didn't.

Instead, Dumbledore replied calmly, 'Of course it isn't Professor Snape. He's still on Professor Lupin's mission, so Alastor Moody is impersonating him … that is to say, it was Alastor until tonight. Now it is Nymphadora Tonks.'

Harry stared at him incredulously but said nothing at first. Dumbledore had known. He had known that it wasn't Snape but hadn't bothered to tell him. It just seemed too incredibly unfeeling to be true. He swallowed. 'That's all right then,' he said, turning to leave. 'Just as long as you know.' He began walking towards the door.

'Harry,' said Dumbledore, an odd, puzzled look on his face, but Harry didn't turn to face him.

'It didn't occur to you to tell Harry about this, Professor?' said Hermione, teeth clenched and her voice oddly strained.

'Don't bother, Hermione,' Harry snapped from where he was at the door, waiting for her. 'It's all right, I said so,' he said in a lower voice. 'C'mon, let's go.'

'Are you telling me that you had no idea?' Now, Dumbledore did look surprised. 'I thought that surely Professor McGonagall must have told you … But, of course, I ought to have told you myself.' Dumbledore gave Harry a piercing look. 'I am very sorry, Harry. I can only say that there was a lot on our minds when we arranged all this, and I – I forgot. I am sorry.' He sighed, suddenly looking very, very tired. His eyes had none of their usual brightness, nor did they twinkle.

Harry looked at Dumbledore, his anger and disappointment evaporating. He almost felt sorry for him. 'I don't suppose it occured to you to mention to Professor Moody that I am Professor Snape's son?' he said, remembering his encounter with the fake Snape in the Dungeons. Moody, having been away on a mission for several months, would not have found out about Harry's paternity unless someone had told him.

'Ah …' Dumbledore said slowly. 'No, I might have neglected to mention that to him …'

'Really!' Hermione said, almost angrily. 'We thought it was a Death Eater or something. We thought someone was after the Order's secrets; we thought it was really serious! We –'

'It's all right, Hermione,' Harry interrupted her. He was so used to not being told about things by now, that he simply couldn't stay upset with Dumbledore for long. Besides, he was so relieved that Snape wasn't in the hands of Death Eaters – that he was still away on his mission, and that he didn't loathe Harry.

Harry blushed slightly. He had been _unbelievably_ stupid not to realise at once that it wasn't the real Snape. But he guessed that, for some reason, it had felt better to believe that Snape was safe at Hogwarts, even if he behaved horribly towards Harry, than to think that he was out there somewhere, in danger.

'Will it be Tonks impersonating him the whole time now?' Harry asked, thinking that Tonks had not by far done as good a job as Moody.

'No, we have a rotating schedule for that,' Dumbledore said. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones have also made short appearances as Professor Snape ... and next week it will be Bill Weasley's turn for a few days. They're using Polyjuice Potion, of course.'

At hearing this, the thought of what had happened when his father had used Polyjuice Potion quickly crossed Harry's mind, but he deemed it unlikely that anything similar should happen to the people impersonating Snape. Nevertheless, he smiled slightly for the first time in days.

'Well, now I know,' he said. 'So it'll be different people every day, almost?'

'Yes. As I said, Bill Weasley will do it, and Alastor will be back, as will some of the other Aurors. I'm afraid Professor Snape – the real one – will not be back for another fortnight at least. Probably more.'

'But isn't this very risky?' Hermione asked. 'I mean, if anyone found out it wasn't the real Professor Snape ...'

'He has been absent for extended periods of time already this school year, and can't stay away any more without risking exposure. This was the only reasonably safe solution for all parts.' Dumbledore looked at his watch. 'Now, unless you have more questions, I shall have to ask you to leave.'

* * *

Harry thought about Snape as they were going back to Gryffindor Tower. His mind was in turmoil; he had been so hurt – so resentful towards the man he'd thought was his father that all this didn't quite sink in. He still felt angry with Snape although he was in no way to blame for any of what had happened. They had done a good job, Moody and Tonks and whoever else had impersonated Snape, but Harry wished that someone had told him about it before so he wouldn't have had to go through all this, or that the Aurors themselves had known and acted accordingly.

And above all he wished that Snape were safely back at Hogwarts again.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks to all those who have read and/or reviewed this story so far. :) Please tell me what you thought of this chapter; it makes writing so much more enjoyable. 


	29. As Time Goes By

**Chapter 29**

**As Time Goes By**

The light was harsh on his eyes as he opened them. He cleared his throat, which felt very dry, and wondered why there was a vague taste of salt on his tongue. He felt thirsty. What on earth had happened? It seemed like he was in the hospital wing – but why? He racked his brains, trying to think, but unsuccessfully; he had no idea what had brought him here.

'Good morning, Professor Lupin,' said the brisk, cheerful voice of Madam Pomfrey. 'Awake, are we?'

'What – what's happened to me?' Lupin stammered, his tongue sticking to his palate as he spoke. 'Can I have some water please,' he added in a hoarse whisper. Madam Pomfrey looked at him pityingly as she held the goblet to his mouth, supporting his thin frame so that he could drink.

'You won't remember much of what has happened, Professor,' she said, tucking in his blanket, 'you see, you forgot to add the salt to the Wolfsbane Potion, so you turned into a ...'

'A what?' Lupin looked alarmed. 'Surely not a Krup? That's supposed to be a very rare side effect –' At the look of Madam Pomfrey he fell silent. 'You don't mean to say – but then I must have been like this for days!'

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. 'Well, no, Professor, I'm afraid you've been unconscious for over a month. You turned into a wolfskin rug, you see.'

'What? I didn't even know that was possible. But – what did you say? Over a month? What about my mission – who went on my mission?'

'Ah, yes ... Professor Dumbledore sent Professor Snape on your mission. He isn't back yet, and we don't know when he will be.'

Lupin made as if to get up straight away.

'Now please, Professor, there's no use in getting up; even if you could find Professor Snape you wouldn't be able to remain on your feet for more than five minutes. Lie back now.'

'Oh – oh – but I need to see Harry, at least; I need to talk to him, to explain –' Lupin looked agitated and worn, his arms still covered in short, soft wolf's fur, not quite gone yet, his face ashen.

It took him a while, but in the end he managed to persuade Madam Pomfrey to fetch Harry after she had served him his evening meal, which consisted of thin, bland gruel.

'Only a few minutes,' Madam Pomfrey said sternly as she ushered Harry into the room. Harry looked thin and pale, Lupin thought, and more distant than he had only a month ago.

'Harry, I'm so sorry about all the trouble I've caused you,' Lupin said quietly as soon as Madam Pomfrey had left the room.

Harry looked confused. 'What do you mean? How are you feeling, Professor?' he added concernedly.

'Never mind me, Harry. I'm to blame for it all. If it hadn't been for my stupid mistake _I_ would be away on that mission, not Severus. It is all my fault.'

'Oh well,' Harry said dully. 'As long as you're all right, Professor.'

'You have every right to blame me, Harry – I was a thoughtless, selfish ... idiot, not to let Professor Dumbledore help me in the first place.'

'But I'm not – blaming you, that is. What would be the point? If anyone's to blame, it's Voldemort.' Harry sighed tiredly. 'Don't worry about me, Professor; I'm fine.'

Lupin looked at him scrutinisingly. Harry looked depressed, not his usual self.

'So, Harry, who is taking my classes? And who's taking Potions?'

'Oh, Kingsley Shacklebolt is teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Harry said carelessly, 'and ... there are various Order members filling in for Professor Snape. They – they've taken Polyjuice Potion, so no one knows he's gone.'

'I see,' said Lupin, 'that must be difficult for you, seeing your father every day, but knowing it's not really him.'

'I'm used to it by now,' said Harry, shrugging. 'At least I know it's not him now ... but never mind – when are you coming back? It'll be nice to have classes with you again. Not that Professor Shacklebolt's doing a bad job.'

'Oh, I'll be back as soon as Madam Pomfrey'll let me. What else is going on these days? How is the Quidditch season shaping up? Er ... Ron still doing all right this season?'

'Oh, _Ron_'s doing fine,' Harry muttered disgruntledly, 'he's doing very well ... Slytherin are in the lead at the moment though. It's only the finals left now – we'll have to win by 190 points to beat them ...' he sighed.

'Ah, but you'll be fine, Harry,' Lupin said cheerfully, 'after all, aren't you the best seeker Gryffindor's ever had ...!'

'I doubt it,' Harry said glumly, but didn't pursue the matter.

'Now that's enough,' came Madam Pomfrey's stern voice from the door, which had just opened. 'Professor Lupin needs his sleep more than ever now.' She looked at Harry accusingly, as if it were his fault that Lupin was lying there, worn and mangled.

Harry, however, almost looked relieved at the opportunity to escape from the Quidditch discussion. He got up quickly.

'Harry – are you sure you're all right?' Lupin said, eyeing Harry concernedly. He was not at all sure that Harry was feeling as good as he said.

'I'm fine, Professor Lupin. Like I said, don't worry about me.'

Over the next few months, however, Lupin did not cease to worry about Harry. The more he watched him, the more concerned he became; quite contrary to what he had said, Harry seemed to be taking Snape's absence hard. He didn't seem to be able to concentrate in class, yet Defence Against the Dark Arts was his favourite subject. When they had done the Patronus charm, Harry had failed to produce a satisfactory Patronus – Lupin hadn't let on, of course, but he had been shaken to see Harry's bad performance during that lesson in particular. The Slytherins seemed to have found that amusing, however, especially Draco Malfoy. In moments such as this it was especially annoying that all four houses had NEWT-level Defence Against the Dark Arts classes together.

In the beginning, just after he had left the hospital wing, Lupin had often seen Harry and his friends together, but then, as the weeks went by, he increasingly got to see Harry on his own, brooding. He could think of no way to help Harry, however, even though he tried – after all he had a lot to think about himself; the time he'd spent as a wolfskin rug had taken its toll and he had to do all sorts of things for the Order, since so many of its members were busy impersonating Snape at some moment or other.

The month of June came fast, therefore, and the Quidditch finals were just around the corner, Lupin wrapping up his classes as summer began. Lupin had watched the Gryffindor team practise a few times in the past weeks, and had been alarmed to see that Harry's performance on the pitch was just as bad as it was in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Quidditch and Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been the two things that Harry really excelled at. This was not so anymore. Lupin hoped that he would have time to get his act together during practice in time for the match against Slytherin.

The day of the finals arrived mercilessly soon, however; a hot, sunny day, the air quivering above the stands and the goalposts. Many of the students had burnt their skin in the past few days, and almost everybody was sweating profusely as they began to make their way out to the Quidditch pitch. Lupin decided to go and seek out Harry in the Gryffindor changing room, to wish him luck at least, if he could do nothing else. As he walked past the Slytherin changing room, however, he ran into the polyjuiced Professor Snape. Lupin wondered briefly who was on duty, but then remebered that it was Kingsley Shacklebolt's turn to impersonate the Potions Master today.

'Hello, Severus,' Lupin said with a grin. 'Been to give your team a pep talk, have you?'

Kingsley raised an eyebrow in a very Snapelike manner. There was a large group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs standing nearby, so he needed to keep his cover. 'You could say that,' he said condescendingly.

They began walking together toward the other team's changing rooms.

'Where are you headed?' Kingsley went on.

As the crowd of students thinned, Lupin lowered his voice and said, 'I'm going to have a word with Harry –' he looked around, 'I'm worried about him.'

Kingsley looked at him but said nothing.

'I don't know if you've noticed,' Lupin went on, 'but Harry hasn't taken his father's absence well at all. I don't know what he's like in Potions, but in my classes he's been performing abysmally these past weeks – and Defence Against the Dark Arts always used to be his favourite subject, after all ...'

'Really?' said Kingsley, looking alarmed. 'Is it that bad?'

'I'm afraid so. You don't see him as often as I do, I suppose, but he really has changed. I just hope he doesn't do too badly in today's match, because his performance in Quidditch has been affected as well.'

'The Slytherins will never let him forget it if he makes a fool of himself,' Kingsley said thoughtfully. 'Do you really think this is all because of his father's absence?'

Lupin was about to say yes, but was interrrupted by raised voices just outside the Gryffindor changing room. There was a group of Quidditch players from both teams there, and in the centre of the group were Harry and Draco Malfoy. They both had their wands out, and were eyeing each other contemptuously. Before Lupin had time to react, he noticed that Kingsley was already standing between them and had snatched Harry's wand out of his hand. Malfoy looked smugly at Harry.

'What's going on here?' Kingsley demanded coldly.

'Potter,' Malfoy spat, 'has trimmed his broomstick, sir!'

Lupin strode forward to come to Harry's defence. 'What makes you think that, Draco?'

'Pansy says she intercepted one of his owls to Quality Quidditch Supplies,' Malfoy began, and she –'

'Well, what business does she have reading other people's letters?' Lupin interrupted angrily.

'She already suspected him of course,' Malfoy drawled.

'And rightly so,' Kingsley sneered, 'Potter is well known for breaking school rules, and any other rules for that matter.'

Malfoy looked triumphantly at Harry, who looked as if he couldn't care less what happened.

'Well, all the brooms are examined by Madam Hooch before the match at any rate,' Lupin said calmly. 'If Harry's broom has been tampered with, she'll know.' He gave Malfoy a suspicious glance, and turned to Harry. 'You haven't left your broom unattended anywhere, have you?'

Harry shook his head.

'_I_ haven't done anything with it, if that's what you mean!' Malfoy snarled.

'I'll thank you not to accuse my students unfoundedly, Lupin,' Kingsley snapped. Then he turned to Malfoy. 'You'd better get back to your changing room, Draco. And don't worry about Potter –' he gave Harry a fleeting look, 'he can't even play a decent game of chess.'

Malfoy gave Harry a final sneer, then turned around and left without another word.

'We'd better go too, Harry,' said Katie Bell, a worried look on her face.

'Yeah, c'mon, mate,' said Ron, who'd been watching the scene anxiously.

Harry, however, did not seem to hear them. He was staring at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was looking back at him, his expression inscrutable.

'Harry, really!' said Katie impatiently.

'I'm coming,' said Harry, his eyes still on Kingsley. He gave a slight smile as Kingsley gave him back his wand, then turned around and walked into the changing room with his team-mates.

Lupin looked around. There were no students nearby. 'That was taking it a bit far, wasn't it, Kingsley? That's not what the boy needs right now.'

Kingsley looked at him disdainfully. 'I'm not Kingsley,' he said, and walked swiftly in the direction of the stalls.

Lupin stared after him. Surely Kingsley was the one on duty today? He had looked at the Snape schedule only this morning, and he was sure it had had Shacklebolt's name on it. If that had not been Kingsley, then who was it? If it was Tonks, she had really outdone herself. Or could it be Moody? He shook his head and left for the stalls himself.

The players were already on the pitch when he reached his seat next to Professor McGonagall. Once more he looked wonderingly at Professor Snape, or rather, his impersonator, who was sitting two seats further down. Who on earth was this? He thought of asking Professor McGonagall, but noticed that the match had just begun, and turned to look at it instead.

To Lupin's amazement, this turned out to be one of the most exciting and unpredictable Quidditch finals in Hogwarts history. Harry flew as if he indeed had trimmed his broomstick, weaving in and out between the other players, making sure that he always knew what Malfoy was up to. He had a tricky job, making sure Malfoy didn't catch the snitch, and was frustratingly close to it himself on several occasions, but couldn't catch it since Gryffindor had to be forty points ahead to win. Harry looked at Ginny once in a while, Lupin noticed – she was doing a great job as a chaser, and no doubt Harry was hoping that she and the others would soon score enough goals for him to be able to catch the snitch.

Dumbledore was watching the game with interest, looking benignly at both teams as they sped about the pitch, while McGonagall looked as if she were taking part in the match herself, cheering animatedly when Gryffindor scored. Snape – whoever he was – looked as if he couldn't care less how the match went.

There was some commotion in the crowds, and McGonagall rose to see better, the other teachers following her example. Gryffindor were in the lead by sixty points now, Lupin saw on the score board, and he could just barely see Harry making a spectacular dive to the base of one of the Slytherin goal posts where he, some seconds later, held the snitch triumphantly for everyone to see. Malfoy watched in fury from the other side of the pitch, his broom shaking slightly as the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gave a roaring cheer.

Amid the deafening noise, Dumbledore leaned over to McGonagall. 'Congratulations, Minerva,' he said merrily, 'a well deserved victory, I daresay.' He turned to Snape. 'Better luck next time, Severus!' He then lowered his voice so that it became barely audible. 'Or perhaps congratulations are in order to you too?' His eyes twinkled.

'Thank you, Headmaster,' Snape said softly.

At that moment Lupin realised what he should have realised a long time ago – Snape was back.

* * *

**Author's note**: Thanks to all those faithful reviewers – and readers – who follow this story although the time between updates can sometimes be long. I hope you enjoyed this. 


	30. Down Once More

**Chapter 30**

**Down Once More**

The cold air of the dungeons did Harry good after all the food he'd had in the Gryffindor common room, and after all the noise and commotion there had been. This time, he wasn't going to delay. He was going to see his father now, right away, and not without a reason – there was something he had to talk to him about, and he was not going to let anything get in the way again like it had on so many occasions before.

The celebrations had been memorable, Ginny having brought along some of her brothers' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, but Harry hadn't been able to focus on what was going on or even to enjoy any of it. His mind had been elsewhere. He had stayed, however, for he didn't want to venture down to the dungeons while there were still hoards of grumpy Slytherins about, nor did he want to leave the party conspicuously early and thus raise suspicion.

Katie Bell had been astounded and overjoyed at his excellent performance, and so had all the others, including Hermione and Ron, who hadn't understood Snape's comment and look back outside the changing room. Harry, on the other hand, had suspected that it was his father and not some impersonator as soon as he had mentioned playing chess, and then, as they had looked at each other, he'd been absolutely certain. Afterwards, during the Quidditch match, all Harry had thought about was his father, and the rest had happened all by itself; Harry had played on autopilot, the nervosity and distraction from earlier games and from practice gone completely.

He was on his way down to the dungeons now, however, and didn't give the match a thought, turning the corner into the corridor where Snape's study was. He paused before he knocked, realising that this time he wasn't nervous about talking to his father, but simply happy that he'd finally get the chance.

Snape was looking up at him from where he sat at his desk as he entered. 'Harry,' he said, 'I was hoping you'd come.'

Harry smiled. 'I wasn't going to let you go on another mission without having talked to you first,' he said, then sat down opposite his father, who was putting away a large stack of what looked like essays.

'How are you? Snape looked at Harry scrutinisingly. 'Have you been all right while I was away?'

Harry hesitated. 'Well, mostly,' he said, then paused. 'There haven't been any major problems ... I'm fine now, anyway.'

'You were great in today's match, Harry – congratulations on your victory.'

'Thanks,' Harry said with a grin, 'too bad your team lost!'

'I daresay I shall be able to live with the shame. How about some tea?'

Harry nodded, glancing at the jars full of obscure, slimy parts of plants and animals on his father's shelves while Snape conjured up tea and frosted pumpkin cake on the now empty desk. He scanned the shelves to see if there was a new jar of cockroaches, but couldn't find one.

'So, did your mission go well?' Harry asked.

'Yes, it did, but as you know it took a lot longer than I hoped it would. There were unexpected delays of various kinds, but no serious problems ...' Snape sighed. 'I can't give you any details, of course.'

'No, of course not,' Harry nodded, taking some cake.

'It may interest you to hear that it looks as if I'll be staying here for a while now,' Snape added, taking a sip of his tea. 'So even though you'll be going away for the holidays soon, you'll know where I am and –' he paused, 'well, and if you like, we could – perhaps – see each other some time.'

'Oh, that'd be great,' said Harry and smiled. Snape wanted to see him – he might... they might meet, and he'd get away from the Dursleys. 'I'd like that,' he added, then took a sip from his own mug, badly burning his tongue on the scalding liquid. How on earth could Snape be sitting there, drinking as if it were pumpkin juice?

'Yes,' said Snape, 'I won't be going away for a good while now.' Harry noticed that his father didn't look displeased at the thought of this at all.

'As long as Lupin doesn't turn into a wolfskin rug again, I suppose,' Harry added with a smile, once his tongue had recovered from the boiling hot tea.

'Yes, that's right,' said Snape laconically, an eyebrow raised.

'So, I've been thinking ... ' Where to begin? There was so much Harry wanted to ask Snape, so much he'd been wondering about. And there was one thing he needed to talk to him about, one thing which was the most important of all – but no, not just yet, better talk about something a little less ... upsetting at first. Harry went on: 'Er ... about your flat in Knockturn Alley. What does it look like?'

'Oh,' Snape looked slightly taken aback. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Er ... well, I had a ... er ... I dreamt about it once, and I was wondering what it really looks like – if it's anything like my dream.'

'I sincerely doubt it' said Snape. 'It's not a very nice flat at all, as a matter of fact. I hardly ever go there – but it can be useful sometimes, and one never knows; it might come in handy one day. In fact, I should say it is in need of redecorating.' The last he muttered distractedly. He gave Harry a hesitant look. 'Do you really want me to describe it?'

'Oh well, it doesn't matter that much – I was only wondering. But if you hardly ever go there ...' he paused. 'Where _do_ you go? When you're not at Hogwarts, I mean.'

'Oh, I remain here most of the time, unless I am on a mission of course,' Snape said evasively. He seemed as if he was about to say something more, but then thought better of it and remained quiet, taking another sip of his scalding hot tea.

'So you don't have any other place to go during the holidays?' Harry asked, wondering where Snape had grown up, where else he had lived, what he had done before he came to Hogwarts ... or no; that, perhaps, belonged to the things he didn't really want to know. Not all of it anyway, and not now. He shivered slightly, an image of the Death Eaters standing in a ring floating past his mind.

Snape hesitated slightly before saying a firm 'No.'

'Where ...' Harry paused, thinking of the memories he had seen during his Occlumency lessons, wondering if it would be wise to ask something like this, but then went on, 'where did you live when you were younger? When you grew up?' He looked at his father apprehensively, trying to interpret the expression in his dark eyes.

Snape sat in silence for a few moments, looking pensively into his cup of tea. 'Harry …' he said hesitantly, and looked up to face him again. 'I would like to tell you more about myself – about my childhood, about … things that I have done, decisions I have made in my past – but not today. Please understand –'

'Of course!' Harry interrupted him, wondering how he could have been so thoughtless. Snape had just returned from a mission, he was tired. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated about his childhood – about all those disturbing things Harry had seen last year. He cast about for something else to say. 'Of course I understand,' he said lamely. An awkward silence followed.

'So tell me –' Snape began.

'I went to see Professor Dumbledore,' Harry broke in again, 'while you were away – a few months back – I wanted to ask him if ... if there was nothing I could do, you know, in the fight. Against ...' he paused, 'You-Know-Who.'

Snape eyed Harry warily. 'Yes ... I can see why you would want to do that** …** What did Professor Dumbledore say?'

'He won't let me do anything until I'm seventeen.'

'I thought as much,' Snape said calmly. 'I understand that it is frustrating for you, Harry. But why are you so anxious to begin? Don't forget, there are so many others who are fighting him – all of us in the Order are working against the Dark Lord, and although some Order members may seem ...' Snape cleared his throat and apparently thought better of what he had been going to say. 'Yes, well – just because you're The Boy Who Lived, the responsibility does not rest solely on you, Harry.' He paused. 'We're all in this together, you know.'

Harry swallowed. Snape didn't know about the Prophecy. Harry had suspected as much, but he had not been sure. He knew that Dumbledore hadn't told any of the other Order members that he knew the contents of it, but he had thought that he might have made an exception with Snape. Snape was, after all, Harry's father. But, of course, Dumbledore would never tell anyone about something so private, something that Harry had to decide for himself whom to tell. Then again, there were other ways Snape could have found out; not the full contents, perhaps, but part of it.

Harry let out his breath, slowly; apparently he'd been holding it without noticing. 'Well, yes, I know,' he began, 'but there's the Prophecy.' He looked at his father searchingly, hoping to find a sign that he was wrong, that he did know about the Prophecy after all.

Snape gave him a piercing glance. 'What about the Prophecy?'

'Have you – er – have you heard all of it?' Harry's voice shook slightly.

'All of it? But it was lost a year ago ... in the Department of Mysteries.'

'Well, yes –' Harry hesitated. 'It was lost ... but ...' He stopped, unable to explain it all, to tell his father how Dumbledore had known all along and told no one ...

'But what?' Snape said quietly. 'You don't mean to say that Dumbledore …' His eyes widened. 'Of course … Dumbledore knows. I should have realised, of course. Dumbledore has known all along.'

Harry nodded, looking warily at his father across the desk.

'He knows the full contents of the Prophecy?' Snape's voice was suddenly sharp and cold.

'Yes.' Harry was about to go on, but his mouth was dry, and he found it difficult to speak.

Snape rose, and began pacing to and fro behind his desk. 'And he has kept this from you, of course?'

Harry rose as well, but remained standing in front of the desk. 'Yes,' he said shakily. 'Until a year ago. He told me about it after … after it was lost. He showed it to me in his Pensieve. And …'

Snape had stopped pacing and was staring at Harry. 'And you – you got to hear the end of it as well?' His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Harry nodded. 'The end ... in the end it says that I – I have to kill Voldemort or else he'll kill me.' Harry swallowed and looked down, unable to look at his father, afraid of what his expression might be. They both stood there quietly for a good while before Snape spoke.

'You are quite sure of this, Harry?' Snape's voice was steady; if he was upset, Harry couldn't tell.

'Yes.' Harry looked up again. Snape had turned away from him, and was facing the shelves on the wall behind the desk. 'I asked Dumbledore if it meant what I thought it meant, and he ... he said yes. It said, "... and either must die at the hand of the other."'

Snape turned around to face Harry. His eyes were cold and hard. 'I see,' he said. 'Yes.' There was a long pause, and then Snape sat down again. He looked up at Harry, his expression impossible to read, as always. 'Why don't you sit down, Harry?' he said wearily.

Harry remained standing, looking at Snape's stony face. And suddenly relief flooded him, completely unexpectedly. He hadn't known, up until now, how much the knowledge of the Prophecy had weighed him down, made him feel alone. Now he wasn't alone anymore. Obviously, Snape couldn't kill Voldemort for him, but it felt good all the same that he knew. But that was enough for now.

'No thanks, Dad. I think I'd rather go to bed right now, if you don't mind. I wanted to tell you because … well, because I had to tell someone. I couldn't keep it all to myself anymore. And … I guess I felt you had a right to know. But I'd rather not talk about it right now.'

Snape raised his head. He looked tired and pale. 'Are you sure about that, Harry? Because if you do want to talk, I'm here for you now. You know you can come and see me any time.'

'Thanks, Dad.' Harry smiled. 'That's good to know. But not right now. Maybe we can talk about it … later some time.'

'As you wish.'

'You look tired,' Harry said boldly. 'You should probably get some sleep too.'

Snape looked distracted. 'Yes, yes … I will. As soon as you've gone. Good night, Harry.'

Harry sighed with relief, once again realising how glad he was that Snape was back, and not away on some dangerous mission. This meant that he could come here and see him again as long as nobody saw him going down to the dungeons. Snape would remain at Hogwarts for a while, and above all, Harry knew he'd be safe. Everything would be all right.

Well, not everything, of course. As long as Voldemort was still out there, things could never be completely all right. As long as Voldemort was alive, Harry would always have a gnawing fear at the back of his mind, that something would happen to one of the people that were important to him. But at least his father was here, and in safety for the time being. At least they had been given a brief respite.

He would come down here to see Snape again tomorrow, Harry decided. Right now, though, his father really did look as if he needed his sleep, and so did Harry, come to think of it – he was exhausted after all he'd been through lately. And he could come back soon, and he would. 'Good night,' he said, leaving Snape's study swiftly, his robes billowing behind him.

When Harry had left, Snape did not go to bed, however. He remained sitting at his desk unmovingly for what would have seemed, to an onlooker, like a long while. His facial expression would not have told anyone what was going on inside him; he looked perfectly calm. At his temple, however, a muscle was twitching.

Suddenly he rose, turned around, lashed out with his arm, and with one sweeping movement shoved all the glass jars off their shelf behind his desk, so that they fell on the floor with an enormous crash. The jars seemed to fly all over the room: across his desk, below it, toward the fire-place, over to the door, their contents spraying the wall in the process. Snape did not pay any attention to this.

'Damn you, Voldemort!' he hissed under his breath, his black eyes flashing. And then, in a terrible roar, '_Damn you!_'


	31. He Who Must Not Be Named

**Chapter 31**

**He Who Must Not Be Named**

Snape stalked to Dumbledore's office in a daze of fury, hardly knowing where he was going or what he was going to do once he got there. He spat the password at the Gargoyle, went up the revolving stairs two steps at a time, then kicked the door open without knocking and only stopped when he saw that Dumbledore was not alone. McGonagall was there, and both of them turned to him as he entered, a look of surprise on McGonagall's face.

'Headmaster,' Snape said in a carefully controlled voice.

'Really, Severus, has knocking gone out of fashion in this school?' McGonagall said reprovingly, shaking her head.

Snape ignored her. 'Headmaster,' he repeated, 'I should like to speak to you between four eyes.' He said no more, staring ahead of him stonily, trying very hard to stay calm.

McGonagall made an undefined noise of disapproval and looked expectantly at Dumbledore, who, however, said, 'Certainly Severus – Minerva, if you'll excuse us, this is important.'

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore incredulously, but got up and left with a curt 'Good night.'

'I see you've outdone yourself once more, Headmaster,' said Snape sarcastically as soon as the door had closed behind McGonagall, 'in keeping important matters from people who rightfully ought to know them.'

'I take it that Harry has told you about the Prophecy,' said Dumbledore gravely.

'You know, _Albus_,' Snape spat, 'what I want to know is how long you'd intended to keep this from me? How long? When would you have told me?'

'Never,' Dumbledore said firmly. 'This,' he went on, 'has always been for Harry to decide. Harry is central in this Prophecy and he is the one who must judge whom to tell about it and when.'

'Well, that's just brilliant,' Snape snorted. 'And how was he to know that nobody knew? Was he supposed to guess that all by himself? You waited long enough with telling him too, by the way.'

Dumbledore looked stricken. 'That was a mistake, and I have told Harry as much.' He looked at Snape scrutinisingly. 'I can understand that you're upset, Severus – but you do see that this was Harry's decision, don't you?'

'I wonder, Albus,' Snape said softly, 'why you, who keep meddling in other people's business, suddenly decided not to in this case?'

'I see your point, Severus,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'And delighted though I am that you've finally decided to call me by my first name, I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances. But we must look forward now, and see what can be done. There's no use in dwelling on these things.'

Snape looked as if he were about to make another sarcastic remark, but then simply gave a tired sigh. 'But why did it have to be Harry, Albus? Hasn't he been through enough already?'

'Yes, he has, Severus. Of course he has. But he is the only one who can do it. He is the one to whom the Prophecy refers – he is the one whom Lord Voldemort has marked as his equal. However much we'd like to, there is nothing we can do about it.'

'How am I to live with that?' Snape looked imploringly at Dumbledore. 'How am I to live with the knowledge that my son must kill Voldemort – or _die_?'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise, but gave no answer. There was none.

êöêöêöê

'I wonder if Lupin has planned anything in particular for Defence Against the Dark Arts today?' Ron said at the breakfast table the next morning. 'I mean, it is our last class.'

'I shouldn't think so,' Hermione said, 'it's full moon, after all, so we'll be having someone else for today's lesson.'

'Oh yeah,' said Ron, 'probably Kingsley Shacklebolt as usual. Well, he's all right.'

Harry sat at the table quietly, listening to his friends talking. Having told his father about the Prophecy felt good – now he didn't have to carry the burden of knowing about it all on his own – but he still felt exhausted by the anxiety he'd gone through during the past few weeks, not knowing where Snape was or when he'd be back – or if he'd even come back at all.

'Hey, Ron,' said a voice from behind him. It was Lavender Brown. 'Aren't you finished yet? I want to talk to you.'

'What about?' said Ron, swallowing the last of his toast, 'our History of Magic project's over now.'

'Yeah, and that's not the only thing that's over, just so you know,' Lavender said haughtily and walked away.

Ron looked after her perplexedly. 'Honestly, I've no idea what she's talking about,' he said. 'I mean, we finished the project – we even got an E on it, that was pretty good. I put quite a lot of effort into all that to be honest.'

Harry looked at Hermione and they burst out laughing, unable to stop for quite a while, Ron looking at them bemusedly.

'Come on, we've got to go or we'll be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Hermione said suddenly and rose. The others followed.

When they arrived at Lupin's classroom the door was already open, and the rest of the class was inside. Standing by the blackboard was not Kingsley Shacklebolt, however, but Snape. Harry stared at him in surprise. This was the first time that Snape had taken one of Lupin's classes this year.

'Just in the nick of time, Potter,' Snape sneered. 'One more minute and I would have taken twenty points from Gryffindor.'

Harry's face was inscrutable as he went to his usual seat, followed by Ron and Hermione. Draco Malfoy gave a light snigger and looked at Harry condescendingly. Harry ignored him.

Snape waved his wand at the blackboard and a single word appeared on it. 'LEGILIMENCY'. Harry held his breath. What was the meaning of this?

Snape looked around at the class. 'Can anyone tell me what Legilimency is?' he said softly.

Hermione raised her hand. Harry, however, decided to remain inconspicuous.

'Anyone _besides_ Miss Granger?' Snape said silkily. Malfoy raised his hand. 'Yes, Mr Malfoy?'

'It's mind-reading, sir,' said Malfoy, looking smug. He threw Harry a contemptuous glance.

'Mind-reading,' Snape repeated. 'Would you like to add anything to that, Mr Malfoy?'

Malfoy looked taken aback. 'Er ... it's the ability to read people's minds.'

Snape said nothing, but looked around the classroom. Hermione raised her hand once more, eagerly, and this time, so did Harry.

'Well – Mr Potter,' said Snape smoothly.

'Legilimency is a way to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind. It's not really mind-reading... The mind can't be _read_, since it is a complex thing – or at least most minds are,' Harry said, repeating almost exactly what his father had told him during their Occlumency lessons the previous year, and looking pointedly at Malfoy who looked back at him furiously.

Snape simply gave a curt nod and went on, 'And how does one defend oneself against such an intrusion?'

Hermione's hand went up once again, and she said, 'Through Occlumency, sir.'

'Yes, that is correct – Occlumency is the only effective defence against Legilimency. Through Occlumency one closes one's mind so that it can't be penetrated by others. This, however, need not concern you at present – you will not be learning Occlumency here at Hogwarts. It is a very advanced skill, and there are few who are able to master it.' He eyed them all, scrutinisingly. 'What Professor Dumbledore wants me to teach you today is how to recognise Legilimency, should you ever be subjected to it.'

'Does that mean you're going to try and read our minds?' said Terry Boot, a trace of alarm in his voice.

Snape did not answer. He was standing quite still, staring ahead of him.

'Professor Snape?' said Terry Boot tentatively.

Snape came to life again. 'Haven't you been listening?' He was rubbing his left forearm distractedly. 'There's no such thing as mind-reading.'

'But why would we be subjected to Legilimency?' asked Parvati Patil. 'Who would want to do that?'

'Legilimency is a technique that is frequently used by the Death Eaters,' said Snape softly. He paused. 'And, of course, by Lord Voldemort himself.'

For the first time in his life, Harry joined the collective gasp that followed the mention of Voldemort's name. He had never before heard Snape call him anything but The Dark Lord.

'And as you all know, he – they – pose a threat to all of us in the wizarding community at present.'

Harry wondered how many of the other students knew that Snape had once been a Death Eater – he imagined that it must be quite a few; the Slytherins, certainly, and probably some of the others as well. He looked over at Draco Malfoy, who had a look of utter bewilderment on his face, while Theodore Nott's expression was more indifferent. Parvati Patil was whispering something excitedly to Lavender Brown, and some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs seemed more excited than they would normally have been at the mention of Voldemort's name.Yes, Harry thought – they knew.

'Now,' Snape went on, seemingly unaware of the commotion, 'I am going to show you how Legilimency is performed. I will need a volunteer.' He looked at them expectantly. A sudden silence had descended on the class, and no one was quite willing to meet Snape's eyes. Snape looked around from student to student, then said, 'Potter! I am sure you won't mind aiding me in this.'

Harry stepped forward warily. Was Snape really going to perform Legilimency on him? The thought of it didn't appeal to Harry; there were so many things he'd rather his father wouldn't find out about, not this way at least ... his abysmal performance during Snape's absence, the time when he'd thought that the impostor was his father and was deliberately ignoring him... But no, he would have to brace himself. Would he be allowed to defend himself though? He probably shouldn't, but what if he did it by accident? Well, there was not much he could do about it now. He couldn't very well ask Snape about it, so he'd just have to see what happened. Snape surely knew what he was doing.

Snape and Harry positioned themselves opposite each other in front of the class, clearly visible to everyone. Snape held his wand at the ready, then said, '_legilimens_!'

Harry, who had been looking straight at Snape, now saw flashes of memories, images, just like he had during the Occlumency lessons last year. He was on the Hogwarts Express, Luna saying that he looked different ... he was looking in the mirror, his nose hooked, his reflection shockingly like Snape ... he was watching Snape in Dumbledore's Pensieve, taking Polyjuice Potion and turning into James Potter ... Ron and he were playing chess at 12, Grimmauld Place, Snape watching ... Snape was lying, ghostly pale – dead – on the floor of his study ... then suddenly, without warning, Harry could feel himself falling, and he wasn't in the classroom anymore, he was somewhere else, and he was happy – so happy ...

He was in a forest, a dense, dark forest, shadowy figures surrounding him; he was so happy to see them; he had been hoping this would happen for so long ...

'So you managed to escape at last,' he heard himself say in an eerie, high-pitched voice. Voldemort's voice.

'Yes Master,' said Lucius Malfoy in a smarmy voice. His once so shiny hair had a matted, greyish look, similar to the colour of his tattered Azkaban prison robes.

'Well, it took you long enough!' Harry heard and felt himself say. He felt, at the same time, Voldemort's contempt for Malfoy, and his own, and realised that Voldemort couldn't know that he was there this time – only he, Harry, was aware of the connection.

'My Lord,' came Bellatrix Lestrange's voice from the shadows, 'we did our best – we tried our utmost, we have done all we can to come to you as soon as we possibly –'

Harry felt a surge of hatred; a sea of venom flooded him, he could hardly breathe as he saw Bellatrix step forward next to Malfoy. She had killed Sirius, and he wanted to place his thin, long fingers around her neck and slowly squeeze ... no, he had to suppress these feelings; Voldemort did not know he was present, and he must not find out.

'Bella,' Voldemort said, his voice sounding even more cold than usual, 'I am surprised at you ... yes, I really am ... You, after all, have previously escaped from Azkaban, and this time, there weren't even any Dementors around ...' he shook his head and tut-tutted in disapproval. 'Perhaps I should have the Dementors take care of you _now_ instead ...' Harry felt Voldemort smile.

'Master, no!' Bellatrix wailed and threw herself on the ground before him. She reached for his feet, but he moved away – a mere inch, but enough to make her shrink back in deference. 'I am sorry,' she sobbed, 'I swear ... I promise, I shall never disappoint you again!'

Voldemort gave her a light, contemptuous kick on the chin. 'Get up, stupid woman,' he hissed, 'I have better things to do than listen to your pointless wailing.' He looked around. 'Now, I believe we are all here. All the ones I have been expecting, at any rate. It is time for me, now, to tell you about my plan –'

Someone was gripping Harry's shoulders, shaking him. No, not yet, he wanted to shout, but couldn't. If only he could listen – this was where it got interesting! If only he could stay for just a few moments longer. He needed to hear this, it was important!

He couldn't stop himself from gliding away further, however; now he could feel the hard stone floor beneath him and someone's hands shaking, shaking ...

'Harry!' Snape's voice was tinged with fear. 'Harry! Harry!' He was still shaking him.

'Dad,' Harry whispered hoarsely, opening his eyes. 'Dad – they're back ... the Death Eaters are back.'

**Author's Note**: The next chapter is almost finished and will be the last chapter of this story. Enjoy!


	32. Changes

**Chapter 32**

**Changes**

'Nobody is to leave this room!' Snape said quickly from where he was on the floor, holding Harry. 'Except you, Miss Granger, you will go and fetch Professor Dumbledore immediately – and talk to no one on the way! Go on, out with you.' He got up and ushered her out the door, then muttered what Harry presumed to be a locking charm and turned back to face the rest of the students.

Harry gasped at the realisation of where he was – he had just called Snape 'Dad' in front of all the students, even the Slytherins – and he'd told them all, including Draco Malfoy, about the Death Eaters.

'Da ... I mean, Professor Snape, I ...' Harry began, sitting up, but Snape interrupted him.

'It's all right, Harry, I think everyone heard you call me "Dad" just now.'

The entire class stood staring at Harry and Snape, at a loss for words, Draco Malfoy gaping widest of all. 'P-professor ...' Malfoy spluttered, his face reddening. 'This – this – what the hell's going on?' he looked from Harry to Snape and back again. 'What _is_ this? What's that fraud of a –'

'_Silencio_,' hissed Snape, pointing his wand at Malfoy's throat. 'There, that shut you up for once,' he muttered distractedly, looking away from Malfoy's mouth which was still moving.

The other students stood there gaping. Harry found himself wondering what had shocked them the most – that he'd called Snape 'Dad', or that Snape had put a silencing charm on Draco Malfoy. Snape was now pacing back and forth in front of the door, his wand out. After a little while he stopped, glanced at Harry and said, quietly, 'Are you all right?' He looked at him searchingly.

'I'm fine, thanks,' said Harry and rose. He walked over and stood next to Snape, both of them looking out over the class who were standing around the place where Harry had just lain, huddled in a group and staring at the pair of them in awe. Only Ron and Neville looked reasonably composed.

At the back of the group was Malfoy, struggling, his mouth moving, trying to shout insults, no doubt; being held and prevented from rushing forward by Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode.

There was a knock on the door, and then Dumbledore's voice saying 'Professor Snape?'

Snape took a step toward the door and muttered a spell. The door opened. Dumbledore and Hermione stepped into the room, and Snape sealed the door behind them. Dumbledore looked at the group, who were all of them standing there in absolute silence. There was a mere trace of a smile in his eyes.

'Mr Malfoy,' he said, 'I assure you there is no need to be upset.' He waved his wand at him, giving him back his voice, and Malfoy stood there silent, Nott and Bulstrode slowly letting go of his arms. 'But ... what – what –' Malfoy stammered after a moment.

'Yes, that is a very poignant question, Mr Malfoy,' said Dumbledore and turned to Snape. 'What indeed?'

'Well, firstly, Headmaster,' said Snape, 'Harry just referred to me as "Dad".'

'Ah, yes,' said Dumbledore, 'and the whole class was here to hear ...'

'I'm afraid so.'

Dumbledore turned to the class. 'I see ... Well, in that case, I'll just have to ... _OBLIVIATE_!' He swept his wand over the whole class except Harry and Snape, his voice echoing through the room. 'Well now, wasn't that an excellent lesson Professor Snape just gave you on Legilimency!' He beamed at the class benignly. The students all looked dazed and vaguely pleased, murmuring comments of assent. Slowly they began to gather their books and quills and left the classroom.

Hermione looked at Ron impatiently as he stuffed scraps of parchment into his bag, and they were the last to leave. At the door, however, Hermione stopped. 'Hang on ...' she said. 'Did someone just put a _memory charm_ on me?' She glared suspiciously at Snape and Dumbledore.

'I'm afraid it was necessary, Hermione,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'Harry will tell you all about it presently. Now I must ask you to go.' He closed the door behind Hermione and turned back to Harry. 'Now, Harry, why don't you sit down and tell us all about what you saw.'

Harry told Snape and Dumbledore about the vision, about going into Voldemort's mind, and about what had happened. He made sure that he left out no details. After he'd finished, Dumbledore nodded gravely.

'I see,' he said. 'Yes, well, sadly this comes as no surprise. And it seems unlikely that Voldemort should have planted this vision in your head on purpose.'

'He didn't,' said Harry. 'He didn't even know I was there – I'm sure of it. This vision wasn't like the ones I had last year; this time I knew all along I was in Voldemort's mind; it didn't feel like I really _was_ him. Not like ... back then.'

'This is all my fault,' said Snape ruefully, 'I shouldn't have subjected you to Legilimency in the first place ...' he gave Dumbledore a brief, reproachful look. 'I shouldn't have done it ... especially after I had just felt the Dark Mark burn.'

'Now, that's enough, Severus,' Dumbledore said, 'there's little point in discussing who is to blame for what has happened. Harry is here, and he is safe; that is all that really matters.' He looked back at Harry. 'You are absolutely sure he did not sense your presence?'

'Yes, definitely – this time it was all different. I could feel my own feelings as well as Voldemort's, and ... well, I could tell he didn't know I was there.' Harry thought, for a brief moment, of Bellatrix Lestrange and his urge to kill ... Had that been his own wish entirely? He looked away from Dumbledore, guiltily. Of course it had been his own wish, or at least – his own hatred. But the means of expressing it – maybe that had been Voldemort's.

'Very well.' Dumbledore's glance was piercing, as if he knew.

They heard the sound of someone hurrying along the corridor outside, then there was a curt knock and Professor McGonagall burst in. 'Professor Dumbledore – Albus,' she said, then paused for a second to catch her breath, 'There – there's been a disruption in the shield – the shield isn't safe! It – it was I ... I'm sorry, Albus, I –' She broke off, holding a hand to her chest, breathing heavily.

'Ah, yes, the shield was weakened, of course,' said Dumbledore thoughtfully. 'Don't worry, Minerva, everything's under control.' He led her to a chair and made her sit down. 'Severus, we must call a meeting for the Order of the Phoenix,' he went on, 'and Harry, you need not attend anymore classes today. You may go and see your friends now.'

Harry nodded and left, glad to get away.

Harry spent most of that day down by the lake, where Ron and Hermione joined him when they had no classes. He told them all that had happened, and they discussed what would happen now that the Death Eaters were on the loose again. They all smiled when Malfoy walked past, completely unaware of the fact that his father had broken out of prison, and also of Harry's connection to Snape. 

'He'll know about his father soon enough,' mused Ron, 'it'll be all over the front page of _The Prophet_ tomorrow.'

* * *

The next morning, however, Hermione came up to the boys' dormitory before breakfast, holding a copy of _The Prophet_ and looking strangely pale.

'You'd better not go to the Great Hall today Harry,' she said, 'you'd better go straight to Dumbledore.' She handed him the paper in response to his unasked question. On the front page, there was nothing about the Death Eaters. Instead, there was a large picture of Harry – in profile, his nose appearing to be even more hooked than it really was – and a smaller one of Snape.

_THE BOY WHO LIVED – SON OF A DEATH EATER_

'_Sources close to Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, have informed The Daily Prophet that Harry Potter, also known as the "Boy Who Lived", is not, as was previously believed, the son of James Potter. His father is, in fact, a former follower of He Who Must Not Be Named; a so-called Death Eater. He is said to have been in the inner circle of You-Know-Who, but Albus Dumbledore claims he leftHe Who Must Not Be Namedwell before his fall from power. There is, however, nobody else who is willing to confirm this statement. _

'_Mr Potter's real father is presently in Professor Dumbledore's employ at Hogwarts, where he teaches Potions. Professor Snape is one of the least liked teachers at the school, and Head of Slytherin House, which is notorious for having produced dark witches and wizards. Mr Potter – or, more correctly, Mr Snape – has been unavailable for comment, as has his father.'_

Harry flung the newspaper back at Hermione. 'Take it, I don't want to see it!' he spat. Then he added, 'Sorry, it's nothing against you – it made me angry, that's all. Nobody willing to confirm ...! And what do they mean, unavailable for comment?' he said indignantly. 'It's not as if they asked!' He sighed. 'Well, I guess you're right, Hermione – I'll go and see Dumbledore.'

On his way to Dumbledore's office, Harry noticed students whispering as he passed, throwing him furtive glances. He ignored them, thinking only of what this might mean for Snape's safety. He was worried.

It turned out that most of the Order were already there when Harry arrived. They all looked up at him apprehensively as he entered, no doubt remembering past outbursts. Harry, however, remained calm.

'Er, sorry for barging in on your Order meeting,' Harry said, still standing by the door. 'I just thought I'd ask for some instructions as to what I should do when ... when people ask me about the article.'

The Order members all looked over at Dumbledore. Harry noticed Snape sitting there next to him, his features devoid of emotion.

'We were just discussing it, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Why don't you take a seat?' As Harry sat down, he continued, 'Yes, we had a narrow escape there yesterday, and now it seems it was all in vain. There is nothing we can do to remedy this, I'm afraid.'

'But who was it, Albus?' McGonagall exclaimed. 'Who knew – and who would have told?'

Dumbledore sighed. 'It seems that Mundungus let slip some information in connection with a broomstick robbery.'

'I believe I've warned you about Mundungus Fletcher before, Headmaster,' Snape said softly.

'Yes, I know, Severus,' said Dumbledore, 'But he has been very useful to the Order too – you know he has.'

'Oh, indeed, Headmaster – but how am I to go on another mission when everybody knows I am the father of The Boy Who Lived?'

'You won't – you can't.'

'Oh, that's excellent,' Snape spat. 'So the Order has lost its only source at –'

'Yes, Severus, I am aware of it,' Dumbledore interrupted, his voice unusually sharp. 'But there is nothing to be done.'

As Snape sat there, looking furious, Harry, however, beamed inwardly. His father wouldn't be going on anymore missions! It was too good to be true – he had to restrain himself very hard in order not to smile.

'Now, Harry,' Dumbledore went on, 'I must ask you not to talk about this with any of the other students. Even though we won't be able to deny this, I do not want you to confirm it either.'

Harry merely nodded – he'd do anything as long as he knew Snape would be safe. He'd be happy to tell everybody that he believed in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks if that would be any help.

On his way back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry couldn't fight back a smile. It vanished from his face, however, when he saw other students in the corridors, all of them glancing at him the way they had done on his way there. On his way up the stairs to the portrait hole, Harry met Justin Finch-Fletchley, who eyed him curiously and then asked, 'It's not true, Harry – is it?'

'What do _you_ think,' Harry snorted, looking at Justin challengingly, then left quickly before Justin could ask any more questions. He spent the rest of his day avoiding similar situations, not particularly looking forward to the End-of-Term Leaving Feast which would be held that evening. This was his last night at Hogwarts, and now this had to happen – he was happy that Snape couldn't go on any more missions, but this wasn't how he'd wanted to spend his last day here. He'd have wanted to see Snape, perhaps, but that was out of the question now with the Order so busy taking care of this problem.

Even at lunch, Dumbledore, Snape and many of the other teachers were absent. Harry gave a few more non-committal shrugs and comments to people who asked him about the article, so that nobody was any the wiser as to what his parentage might be.

That evening, Harry entered the Great Hall together with Ron, Hermione and Neville, doing his best to avoid the stares of the students that were already seated at the tables. The Slytherins were looking particularly smug over at their table, pointedly surveying the green and silver decorations which had been put up in their honour as they had won the House Cup – they had beaten Gryffindor by a mere 45 points.

'Potter!' Harry heard McGonagall call out behind him. He turned around. 'I have a message to you from the headmaster,' she said curtly. 'You may disclose – all. You do understand me, Potter?'

'Yes, Professor McGonagall.' He went over to the Gryffindor table and sat down with his friends, a sense of relief washing over him. Now he could be completely open; he had nothing more to hide. He didn't care what anybody else thought, as long as he didn't have to keep lying or hiding things ... he didn't even care what Malfoy might have to say, and he was striding towards him from the Slytherin table at that very moment.

'Potter ... or should I say Snape?' Malfoy drawled as he came closer. The students at the surrounding tables turned towards them, eager to hear of anything that might have to do with today's news.

'I don't really care what you call me, Malfoy,' said Harry, 'in fact I'd rather you didn't address me at all ... so – did you want anything in particular?'

'You think you're great, don't you, Potter,' Malfoy hissed. 'Well, in case you didn't bother to read anything but the front page of _The Prophet _today, I can tell you that my father and all the other Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban. There'll soon be some changes around here – you'll see!'

'Why don't you tell me something I don't know, Malfoy,' Harry sneered. 'I don't doubt there'll be changes, but hardly the changes _you_ think.'

'What I can't see is how anyone could possibly be so stupid as to believe you're actually Snape's son, Potter ... You're such a _loser_, after all.'

'Well, it's even more unlikely that you should be your father's son – I mean, even though it took him the better part of a year to figure out how to escape from Azkaban, he, unlike you, has brains.'

'How about we settle this once and for all, Potter,' Malfoy snarled, '– if you dare. Why don't we just step outside for a minute ... with our wands ...'

'Why go outside?' Harry said, standing up. 'Let's settle it right here, right now. If you want clichés, I can give them to you.'

Up at the staff table there was movement, but the two boys and the onlookers ignored it. Malfoy and Harry pulled out their wands.

'Oh, honestly,' said McGonagall exasperatedly, 'at the Leaving Feast of all occasions! I'll deal with it.'

'No, Minerva,' Snape said softly. 'Allow me – I've been wanting to do this for years.' He strode over towards the Gryffindor table. 'What's going on here, Mr Malfoy?' he said, stepping in between them.

'Potter's being smart with me, sir,' Malfoy said triumphantly.

'Smart?' said Snape.

'Well, for one thing, he didn't deny that he's your son!' Malfoy spat. 'And he wants us to duel! Right here!'

Snape turned to Harry. 'Is this true?'

'Well, actually it was Malfoy's idea to duel,' Harry said indifferently.

'In that case, five points from Slytherin,' Snape said, a mere trace of smugness on his face.

There was a ripple of excitement among the students as the news that Snape had taken points from his own house – from _Malfoy_ – travelled from table to table.

'_What_?' said Malfoy incredulously.

'On second thought – let's make it fifty points,' Snape said pensively, 'for all the times I've wanted to take points from you, but didn't. And that, I believe, takes away Slytherin's lead in the House Cup.' He snapped his fingers and the decorations changed from green and silver to red and gold. 'Go back to your table, Malfoy. Now.'

Malfoy stood staring at Snape for some moments before turning around and walking back to the the Slytherin table, muttering, 'Wait till my father hears about this!'

As the noise that had followed this exchange of words died down, Snape turned to Harry. 'Carry on, Harry,' he said with a nod.

'All right Dad,' said Harry rather more loudly than necessary. Snape raised an eyebrow and walked back to the staff table, ignoring the gaping students he passed on his way.

'Well,' said Dumbledore, smiling merrily, 'it's time for my speech, but I strongly suspect that no one will be listening to what I have to say right now – so I'll just say, tuck in!'

* * *

As Harry was waiting for the Thestral-drawn carriages the next morning, nobody except his closest friends stopped to talk to him – everybody else simply stared at him or averted their eyes. He thought back at the year that had gone by – there hadn't really been a lot of exciting things happening, not like the other years he'd been at Hogwarts. Well, apart from the fact that he'd found out that Snape was his father. There had been no really dangerous situations, no direct meeting with Voldemort ... nobody had died. Harry shuddered at the thought of all the horrible things that had happened duringthe past two years, and those that were, no doubt, yet to come.

But now – now he was going back to the Dursleys ... once more. And when Harry had wanted to say good-bye to Snape today, he had seen on the Marauder's Map that he was in Dumbledore's office, along with many others from the Order, and he'd been reluctant to go there and interrupt whatever they were doing.

Just as he was about to embark on a spree of self-pity, Hermione, Luna, Neville Ron and Ginny came along, their trunks floating ahead of them in the air.

'Harry, hi!' Ginny shouted. 'You ready to go then? You've got everything packed, I see.'

'Well, actually I wanted to say good-bye to ...' Harry began.

'Professor Snape?' said Hermione.

'Yeah, but he was busy, and I didn't want to disturb him, so I guess ...'

'Actually, he's right over there,' said Luna dreamily, pointing towards the castle.

Harry turned around, and there Snape was, coming towards them, followed by the stares of curious students.

'Good morning,' Snape said. 'May I have a few words in private with my son?'

The others nodded and left, smiling in a way Harry found rather annoying.

'I was looking for you, but you were in Dumbledore's office,' said Harry.'Yes, we have a lot to do in the Order – a lot of arrangements to make. But I had to say good-bye to you.'

Harry smiled. 'Well, I'm off to the Dursleys now ...' He paused.

'Ah, yes,' said Snape, 'that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about – I'm afraid you'll have to go to the Dursleys this summer as usual.'

'I know I have to – and I know why,' said Harry. 'It's all right. Will you be staying here?'

'No. I'll be at a safe location – I can't tell you where, of course, but it's not here. I wanted to ask you, however, if you'd care to join me there on your birthday? Dumbledore allows it ... You could stay for the rest of the summer.'

'Oh – of course! I'd love to come.'

'Good. We can talk then – about everything. The Prophecy, and – well, whatever you want to talk about.'

'Yeah,' Harry's smile widened. 'That'll be great.'

'Yes. So, I'll see you then. Good-bye, Harry.' Snape nodded curtly, hesitated for a moment, then gave Harry a stiff, uneasy, one-armed hug and walked back to the castle. Harry looked after him as he swept up the stairs to the main entrance.

'Good-bye, Dad,' he murmured as the others returned.

_THE END_


End file.
